


Seasons Die Off One by One

by ChoiSangNeul



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mystery, Past and Present, Romance, Slow Build, Supernatural Elements, Time Travel, missing person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2018-08-24 09:03:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 98,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8366362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChoiSangNeul/pseuds/ChoiSangNeul
Summary: Brown hair. Hazel eyes. Twenty one years old. That's the information printed on the missing posters for one Piers Nivans. Missing without a trace for fourteen years, no one expected to ever see him again, much less to reappear not even a day older than the night he disappeared. Nivanfield.





	1. Prologue

There is no light. No sound to be heard other than the ticking of the old clock hanging on the living room wall. The wood is chipped, scratches adorning the glass from most likely being dropped a few times. Claire Redfield has no idea where her brother got it, but it suites him, especially now that he’s always so rugged and worn out.

The younger Redfield leans against the kitchen counter, the steam rising from the mug beside her barely visible in the dark. She pulls her hair up into a messy ponytail, her bangs falling across her clear blue eyes. Claire should be sleeping, but she can’t, the bags under her eyes a testament to that, but if anyone were to comment on her dark eyes, they hadn’t yet seen her brother’s. Sleep seems to have been eluding the occupants of this apartment for the past few days.

Claire takes a sip from her mug, needing the caffeine in her system to keep her functioning now more than ever. The sound of glass shattering from within the living room resounds in the tiny space making the redhead jump and almost drop the cup of coffee in her hands.

“Chris?” Claire calls out into the silence, setting her mug down on the counter before padding down the short hall to the living room. The shards of glass scattered across the floor catch her attention as they glint in the moonlight streaming through the windows, but other than that, there is no one there.

Claire carefully tip toes through the mess before crouching next to the frame on the floor, wondering how it managed to fall off the shelf. She picks it up and feels a lump lodge itself in her throat as her eyes land on the picture. It’s Chris and Piers, her brother easily throwing an arm over the younger man’s neck thanks to their height difference. Chris is taller, built a little bigger than Piers, but then again, he is older than the brunette by at least five years.

The broken glass had cut through their both faces, the damaged photo too much to look at as Claire places it back down on the floor and slides it under the couch. Chris can’t see that frame, especially not with how shattered it is.

Claire throws a glance over her shoulder, wondering if Chris had woken up to the sound. She gets up, her bare feet softly padding out of the living room and down the hall. There is no sound from Chris’ room, the moonlight barely illuminating the room as the redhead pushes the slightly open door further.

The lump under the sheets is still. Chris is still out cold, his body in the same position it had been when Barry had helped set him down on the bed a few hours ago. Her brother had worked himself to exhaustion, his body and mind shutting down on him during a search. Nothing is going to wake him for a while.

A soft sigh escapes Claire as she leans her head against the door, her arms crossing in front of her chest. She hates seeing her brother like this.

The blinking light at the corner of her eye brings the redhead back to reality before the ringing of the phone fills the silence of the apartment. Claire glances back at Chris, no movement to indicate the ringing is getting through to him at all before she moves away from his bedroom doorway.

Claire makes the way over to the living room and grabs the phone, bringing it up to her ear. “Hello?”

“Claire,” a man's deep voice filters through the speakers and Claire knows exactly who it is.

“Barry,” the redhead greets, a small smile making it’s way across her face despite the older man not being able to see it.

“How is he?” Barry asks, Claire not missing the concern lacing his voice.

“No change,” the younger Redfield answers as she leans against the side of the couch.

“He’s not up yet?”

“No,” Claire breathes out, blue eyes glancing down the hall despite not being able to see Chris’ room from where she is.

A sigh is heard from the other side of the line followed by some shuffling before Barry speaks again. “And you? How are you?”

Claire threads her fingers through her hair, pushing her bangs up and away from her face. “I’m -” the redhead begins before she cuts her words short, a voice drifting from down the hall catching her attention. She’s silent for a moment, listening, Barry calling her name through the phone.

Claire could never mistake her brother’s voice and the one coming from down the hall definitely isn’t his.

“Claire? What’s wrong?” Barry questions, but Claire’s focus is already far from the older man.

“I’ll call you back,” the redhead mumbles into the receiver and without waiting for a response from Barry, hangs up the phone.

“ _...back to you_.”

The floor is cold under Claire’s bare feet as they carry down the hall towards the sound of the voice. It seems to be coming from Chris’ room, but the last time she checked barely a minute ago, he had been alone in there.

“ _...you missed me. Leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you._ ”

Claire furrows her brows, approaching Chris’ room, the door open half-way just as she had left it. She knows that voice.

Chris is there, hunched over, the sheets bunched up at his feet. There’s a small light partially illuminating his face coming from something in his hand, his dark sunken eyes looking worse in the dim light. It takes the younger Redfield a moment to notice the soft ringing in the room before it stops, Claire blinking when she realizes that Chris is holding a phone in his hand.

“ _Hey, this is Piers. Sorry you missed me. Leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you_.”

That voice belongs to Piers.

Claire bites her bottom lip as she watches Chris flip the phone closed before opening it and pressing a button. The ringing starts again for a few moments and the redhead knows exactly what is coming next.

“ _Hey, this is Piers. Sorry you missed me. Leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you_.”

He sounds so young, so cheery. Claire finds herself wondering if Piers ever thought that one day this would be the only way anyone would be able to hear his voice again. The only way Chris would be able to cling to what little he has left of his boyfriend.

Claire’s mouth feels dry, the ringing filling the silence again and she decides that now is the best time to speak up, but Chris beats her to it.

“I should have never let him go with Wesker,” Chris says, vacant eyes staring at the phone in his hands. His voice sounds husky, drained, like if it’s taking everything out of him to just say the words.

“ _Hey, this is Piers. Sorry you missed me. Leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you_.”

“Chris…” the redhead sighs, stepping into the room.

The older Redfield doesn’t even acknowledge his approach, eyes cast down on the phone and fingers dialing his boyfriend’s number again. Up close like this, Claire can clearly see the way his usually straight posture is curled in itself, the shadows playing with his dark eyes and sunken cheeks. He’s just twenty-five years old and yet he looks so much older.

“I should have followed my gut,” the words leave Chris’ lips in a rasp, barely audible. “I knew I shouldn’t have let Piers go with Wesker and now he’s gone.”

“There’s no proof,” Claire starts before she holds her tongue, Piers’ message playing all over again.

“ _Hey, this is Piers. Sorry you missed me. Leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you_.”

“Chris, you know that night had been hard on everyone. Bravo -”

“I know he did something,” Chris repeats, loud and clear this time. He’s not the type to second guess anything. “The bastard did something to my boyfriend and he just stands there pretending like he doesn’t know shit.”

“Chris…” Claire tries again before the ringing starts up again. The redhead purses her lips and leans forward, flipping the phone shut before the message can play again.

Chris flinches at the action, his blue eyes finally meeting hers and the hurt and confusion evident in them makes Claire regret her actions, but this isn’t helping her brother.

She wants to say that. Wants to tell him that he needs to pull himself together. That he needs to stop walking those woods every minute of every hour for someone who is not there. No one knows where Piers is - but he’s not there. He would have turned up by now if he was. She wants to tell Chris that she’s worried about him. Wants to tell him that he needs to sleep and eat and just live again.

“I miss him too,” the redhead whispers, almost as if scared that if she spoke too loud her brother would give her that hurt look again. It’s the same one he had when they had lost their parents. Chris doesn’t openly grieve. He doesn’t cry, but you can see it in his eyes if you know how to look for it. The hurt is there. It’s always there.

Chris wraps his fingers around the phone, his grip tight as his other hand finds his sister’s arm and pulls her to sit on the bed with him. She complies and sits on the edge, Chris’ eyes refusing to meet hers again.

He’s silent for a moment, glancing around the room and refusing to meet her eyes before he finally speaks up. “I had a dream...about the old house. And he was there. I threw my arms around his neck and I...and I heard his voice, as clear as day. He told me I should concentrate. It was all so strange but it felt so real.” Chris looks up at his sister then, his thin lips pulled into a tight line. “He’s telling me to find him.”

“Chris…”

“I have to find him,” the older Redfield says as he kicks the sheets off his feet, but Claire places a hand on his knee, keeping him from sliding off the bed.

“This must be hard, I know that, but please don’t run off on your own or try to do this by yourself. You have people who care about you. Me, Barry, Jill, the rest of your team. We want to find him as much as you do, but we’re also worried about you. Please just stay tonight and rest.”

Chris shakes his head, as he tries to continue to get off the bed, but Claire reaches for his arm now. “I have to find him, Claire,” he says, but Claire doesn’t let go, prompting the older Redfield to pry her fingers off his arm.

“Don’t go. Please not tonight. Barry had to carry you back here because you collapsed out there,” the redhead pleads, her fingers clutching the back of her brother’s shirt now.

“I have to go, Claire. The longer I take to find him the worse he could be,” Chris answers, pulling away from his sister’s grip on his shirt.

“You’ve gone every day and night since then,” Claire tries before Chris turns to face her. The solemn look in his eyes makes her tighten her grip even though she knows Chris wants the opposite.

“Do you know what’s the last thing I said to him?” Chris mumbles. He’s looking in Claire’s direction, but he’s not talking to her. “I told him not to do anything stupid.”

Claire blinks up at her brother when his eyes meet hers, finally looking at her again.

“Don’t do anything stupid. Who says that?” the older Redfield asks, but Claire knows he’s not really waiting for an answer from her. “He’s walking away from me...with Wesker...and that’s all I have to say to him. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Chris squeezes his eyes shut, his chest rising and falling as he takes in a deep breathe before his gaze demands her full attention. His brows are furrowed, jaw set. “I have to find him.”

In that moment the younger Redfield knows that there is no arguing with him. Claire nods, her fingers releasing Chris’ shirt. “Just...come back, please,” is the only thing she can add on.

Chris simply nods as he walks around the bed, pausing at the door. “I will,” he says before he steps out into the dark hall.

Claire sits there in the darkness, listening as the heavy thud of his boots carry him further away from her before the sound of the door is heard. It shuts a few seconds after and the redhead lets out a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.

He’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Resident Evil and it's characters do not belong to me.
> 
> A/N: Here it is, the prologue to my current project. It's a bit of a mystery mixed with romance and supernatural elements. Oh, and let's not forget the feels. Poor baby Chris has lost his Sniper. I know some details are missing, but I promise more will be made clear in the next chapter.
> 
> Also, just in case it hasn't been made clear, in this chapter, Chris is twenty-five and Piers is twenty-one. It's an AU set in the S.T.A.R.S days. Most of the characters if not all are in their canon age, except for Piers. He's the only character inserted into this timeline and he was born four years after Chris.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Any comments or reviews are greatly appreciated!


	2. Chapter 01 - Present (2012)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present (2012)

The night sky full of stars above is the only thing visible through the thick blanket of darkness. The twigs snap under his boots and an owl hoots in the distance as if answering. The crickets sound as if they are in every corner of the woods, the croak of a frog breaking through every once in a while. The symphony gets louder the deeper into the woods he goes, yet he doesn’t quite hear it.

The smoke from the cigarette hanging off the corner of Chris’ lips waft up into the air, blown back in his face when a cool light breeze blows through, prompting him to pull his coat tighter around his frame. He can barely see his legs carrying him as he takes each step, but he doesn’t need to. Chris trudges on through the woods like a blind person would in their own home. All from memory, from having worn down every possible path throughout the years.

He’s searching for something. For a distant voice he only hears in his memories.

0o0

Peaceful moments rarely last at Raccoon City’s Police Department, much less for the Special Tactics and Rescue Service division commonly shortened to S.T.A.R.S.  This morning is anything but slow, officers and personnel running in and out of the station, busy with answering the demands of the city to put the spike of crime down.

Nothing S.T.A.R.S deals with can be considered petty. That’s not what the division had been formed for. Everything from violent crimes to terrorism in Raccoon demands the involvement of this special division and the dedication of each of its members. Only the best of the best are recruited, specializing in their field.

Yet, despite the buzz of the station, he sits there like an unmoving boulder amidst the chaos. His brown eyes stare at nothing and yet everything. It’s uncharacteristic for this man, his exploits of heroism laying out a red carpet of nothing but admiration and praise for every successful operation. Not known to turn down a challenge, this captain of S.T.A.R.S leads by example. 

He doesn’t see the door to his office open despite it being in front of him, much less hear the hinges creak as they carry the weight of the door. It’s only when a steaming cup of coffee is placed on his desk that Chris Redfield blinks out of his stone-like trance. He glances up to see his partner, Jill Valentine, the frown on her pouty lips speaking volumes despite nothing being said between them.

“The bags under your eyes say you need it,” is all she offers before she turns on her heels and heads for the door.

Chris glances down at the black coffee set in front of him before he parts his lips, his own voice sounding raspy even to his own ears. “Jill,” he calls out, but that doesn’t make the woman stop as she grabs the doorknob. “Jill, I had that dream again.”

That makes Jill pause, her ponytail sliding off her shoulder and running the length of her back. She’s an exotic beauty, mixed with French and Japanese ancestry.  Her blonde hair glistens despite being illuminated by the dull fluorescent bulbs in Chris’ office. It had been brown up until recently, Chris not too sure why she decided to dye it, but he doesn’t mind. It suites her, although her brunette locks also accentuated her smooth, milky skin just as well.

Despite her beauty, Jill is no fragile flower. Able to hold her own in a fight with men twice her size and able to work hand in hand with some of the scientific specialists in S.T.A.R.S, she’s got it all. Brains, beauty, and brawn along with a fierce loyalty and concern for the people she cares about. She’s perfect. Jill is all anyone could ever hope to find in a person.

And yet...and yet what? Chris doesn’t want to finish the thought, choosing instead to grab the coffee his partner had brought him. It burns as it makes its way down his throat, but Chris is just glad that he can feel it.

Jill stands there for a moment before she glances over her shoulder at Chris. “I’ll print more copies,” is all she says in response to the captain’s statement before she pulls the door open and steps out, letting it shut on its own.

Chris nods despite the woman being long gone and places his coffee on his desk. He lets it swirl around a little before he sighs, a hand coming up to rub at the bridge of his nose. She’s one of the few people who can read him like an open book, although at least he can say that it’s not always easy. At times like this, there is very little to absolutely nothing Jill can do to help him, so she’s stopped trying. She cares, Chris knows that all too well and he appreciates the way she doesn’t force that fact on him, especially not when it concerns _that_ topic.

Chris takes a deep breath before he reaches for a folder to the side of his desk. He slides it in front of him, but he doesn’t open it, opting to glance around the room and think about any other tasks he needs to get done that don’t involve him being cramped in his office all day. There’s a soft knock on his door and Chris glances up half expecting it to be Jill again, but the woman rarely knocks. She comes and goes as she pleases and he knows her far too long to deny her that, not that he cares.

“These came out the printer for you, sir,” a young man says as he pokes his head into the office and holds up a stack of papers.

Chris nods and gestures for him to come in, the young man shuffling in and placing the papers on his desk.

Finn Macauley. The newest edition to S.T.A.R.S. The division has grown from its days as a relatively small unit, but even so, every member is highly qualified in their position. Finn is the demolitionist expert. After one too many incidents where abandoned buildings had been used as hideouts for terrorists and other dangerous groups, Chris thought it was good that S.T.A.R.S now had its very own demolitionist to help clean up the mess if maybe even prevent some.

Finn doesn’t really look like anyone who would enjoy knocking down structures for a living giving his rather introverted and timid personality. He’s short and pretty small, but then again, everyone is compared to Captain Bearfield. Chris really hates that nickname. Finn’s a shy guy, but Chris can’t deny that he takes his job seriously.

Chris nods at Finn and utters a “Thank you,” before glancing at what the rookie had placed in his hands.

 _Caucasian male. Brown hair. Hazel eyes. Stands at 5’10’’ and weighs about 147 lbs. Twenty-one years old._ It’s the description of Piers Nivans, the words “missing” printed in all caps, bolded in black ink to the top of the papers. They’re the same flyers that have been up for the last fourteen years.

It had started out as a pretty standard mission. Search and rescue. S.T.A.R.S had lost contact with Bravo Team after they had been dispatched to the Arklay Mountains in the outskirts of Raccoon City. It ended with the disappearance of Alpha Team’s Sniper, Piers Nivans and instigated the mystery that still haunts Raccoon City to this day. No clues. No trace of the young man since that night in July. It’s like if he had been plucked off the face of the planet, simply vanished into thin air never to be seen again. It’s baffling how someone who existed, who came in and out of this very station like everyone else, just disappeared like that. It’s heart-wrenching how someone who came into _his_ life, made him care, could be gone just like that from one night to the next.

“Thirty-five,” a soft voice jars the S.T.A.R.S captain from his thoughts.

“What?” Chris blink, tearing his eyes away from the missing poser to the young man squirming under his captain’s hard gaze. Finn’s still standing there? Chris thought he had left already.

“Thirty-five, that’s how old he’d be give or take, right captain?” Finn clarifies, shifting uneasily from one leg to the other.

“Oh,” Chris blinks before he glances down at the poster again.

 _Thirty-five, huh?_ That sounds about right. Chris himself is thirty-nine now and he had been four years older than the Sniper.

He’s frozen in time. Everything about Piers is frozen in 1998, on that night in July. Chris can tell anyone the exact day - hour - minute - that everything changed, but it wouldn’t change a thing.

Piers liked to keep his hair short, the front a little longer and styled upward into a flip. It suited him, complimenting his pretty boy looks. Despite the countless teasing he’d get about how it probably took him hours in the morning to get it just right, he actually only spent no more than a minute, well, that was when Chris wasn’t coming up behind him and running his fingers through his hair, brown strands a mess to be tamed again.

It’s styled just like that in the picture on the missing flyer. It’s the only one Chris had found of him at the time that had been recent enough. Captivating hazel eyes and pouty lips. Pale skin and smooth cheeks. Not a single little hair on his face yet. Chris had a smooth face like that once, but now he had to shave every week if he didn’t want to look like a black-bearded pirate at the end of the month.

Chris rubs at the stubble growing on his jaw, wondering if Piers would have ever had the same problem. He can’t even imagine what the Sniper would look like with a beard. Doesn’t feel like it would suite his youthful face.

Piers had been pretty thin, lithe yet strong. Chris had been taller than him, but the Sniper had been a good average height for his age and build. Chris had also been around that size once upon a time, but now he’s built like a gladiator. Would Piers be impressed if he saw the muscles Chris had put on over the years? Would the Sniper even recognize him?

“Um...am I wrong, sir?” Finn speaks up, looking like if he wants the floor to open up and swallow him. The kid’s _still_ here?

“No,” Chris answers with a shake of his head. “No, I was just thinking about how you’re right.”

Finn nods when Chris offers him a small smile before he gestures for the rookie to leave. The young man hightails it out of there, almost bumping into two people standing at the door to the captain’s office on his way out. Today is visit Chris Redfield day it seems.

Chris’ shadow of a smile drops when he sees his next set of visitors, Sheva Alomar and Josh Stone, agents from the FBI.

“Good morning, Chris,” Sheva greets, offering him a courteous smile, closing the office door behind her.

“Chris,” is all Josh says, short and to the point, accentuated with a nod.

“You’re a day early this year,” is Chris’ own reply as he grabs the missing flyers on his desk and shoves them under a pile of folders, but not fast enough for either of them to not catch a glance of them.

“Sheva and I are working an investigation in the area. Thought we might as well stop by to give you updates on _the_ case,” Josh explains as he takes a seat in the chair across from Chris’ desk.

“Have there been any?” Chris deadpans, narrowed eyes meeting Josh’s.

They’re both silent.

Chris hadn’t thought so. Chris himself hadn’t dug up anything useful. There are never any updates. Never anything new. Every year is the same thing. Every July is the same routine. On the day of his disappearance, Sheva and Josh renew their vows to find any information they can on Piers’ case, just like they had all those years ago when they had first been assigned to the case.

This is the case that will forever follow their career if not define it. The one that has stumped every investigator up to this day.

“Tomorrow makes fourteen years, huh…” Chris mumbles to himself, sitting back in his chair.

Fourteen years of searching. Fourteen years of waiting. Fourteen years of nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Resident Evil or any of its characters.
> 
> Author’s Note: Hopefully this chapter revealed some more information that I had introduced in the prologue. If there are any questions or anything that needs clarity, just let me know and I’ll be happy to try and clear things up! Chapter 1 is set in the present (2012), fourteen years after the prologue which is set in the past (1998).
> 
> Also, important to note that this story will switch back and forth between the present (2012) and the past (1998) by chapter. This chapter is set in the present, so the next one is in the past. 
> 
> I hope this doesn’t confuse anyone! I tried my best not to. Just bear with me and please review! Thanks :)


	3. Chapter 02 - Past (1998)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Past (1998)

“Give us our guy and no one has to die. Everyone can walk away from this!”

The command is almost swallowed up by the blare of sirens, the lights dancing around the streets from the police cars. The man in all black that had uttered the words is barely visible, hidden away in the building and shouting till his throat is raw in order to he heard over the commotion that are the streets of Raccoon City that night.

His words are the biggest lie of the night, especially since at least five people are already dead from when the gunmen seized the police station at gunpoint. Not everyone will walk away from this, and if Chris Redfield had any say in this, he’d guarantee that the gunmen won’t.

“Tell me you’ve got those guys in your sights, Edward,” Chris speaks into the walkie-talkie, but he doesn’t want to be talking. He wants to be moving. Doing something, but S.T.A.R.S Alpha Team hasn’t been given the command yet.

It takes a few moments before Edward’s voice comes over through the static, “Not yet. I can’t seem to get a good shot at ‘em.”

“Then move or something,” Chris offers, frustration lacing his tone.

Edward also sounds more than frustrated when he gets back to Chris, “It’s three guys, Chris. At the first shot, the others will panic and they might start killing hostages. I don’t know if I can get all three in succession.”

Chris growls under his breath, turning to Captain Wesker, not caring that the man is executing orders to other officers on the scene, “Can’t I just get up there with him?”

The blonde captain is busy trying to keep the hostage situation under control, if not end it, but Alpha’s marksman is too anxious to just stand there and wait. If he can get up there with Edward, then maybe they can both get the gunmen before the hour is up.

Wesker doesn’t respond to him. The man barely glances at Chris before he’s shouting out more orders. The marksman furrows his brows, his teeth aching at how hard he’s clenching his jaw.

“Wesker,” Chris calls out again before someone puts a hand on his arm, stopping him from marching over to the captain.

It’s Jill, a member of S.T.A.R.S Alpha Team and charged with rear-security, her narrowed blue eyes holding a disapproving glint to them, “Take it easy. No one likes the situation any more than you do.”

Chris grumbles, bringing up a hand to rub the back of his neck, “We’re running out of time.”

“Be patient, man,” Bravo’s marksman Forest frowns, eyes not looking away from the station across the street not even for a second. “I want to barge in there and take them all out myself.”

The clock is ticking down to the end of the hour when one unlucky hostage will get a bullet to the head.

The sound of tires screeching is heard behind them, Jill glancing back to see who the late arrival is, but neither Chris nor Forest move their gazes from the station.

“What’s the situation?” Barry Burton, Alpha’s weapon specialists asks as he jumps out of his SUV, slamming the car door shut behind him.

“Three gunmen just took over the police station. They’re demanding the release of a prisoner in exchange for the hostages,” Jill informs the older man, stepping to the side as the man joins them.

“What prisoner?” Barry asks as he pulls out his gun and makes sure that it’s loaded and ready to go lest the situation calls for it. The poor guy must have had a hard time rushing out here.

“Ricardo Irving,” Kenneth supplies, Bravo’s point man just as tense as the rest of his teammates. “ _The_ Irving.”

“No way,” Barry breathes out. “Out of the question.”

Irving is a dangerous man wanted for multiple counts of theft, drug trafficking, and murder. He had been a key player in Raccoon’s crime world and S.T.A.R.S spent months uncovering his trail. They’re not about to let this man go.

“Exactly,” Forest speaks up. “And now they’ve threatened to kill a hostage every hour their demands aren’t met.”

“How’d they even capture a police station?” Richard, Bravo’s communication expert and back-up man asks, speaking the question everyone has on their mind.

“That’s the baffling part,” Jill answers with a shake of her head.

“That’s why S.T.A.R.S exists,” Forest adds in, earning a look from the rest of his team. S.T.A.R.S is composed of the best of the best, trained for dire situations just as this one.

“The prisoner they want had been at this station before he had been transferred out to a federal prison earlier this afternoon,” Jill explains. “If the gunmen intended to get their man themselves, then they had missed him by a few minutes.”

“Shut up,” Wesker shouts over at them, all heads turning to the man. “I can’t negotiate with all of you running your mouths.”

Chris glances over at Wesker, a scowl ever present on his smooth features before he glances down at his watch and curses under his breathe. “What about now, Edward?” he hisses into the walkie-talkie. The hour is up.

“Chris, stop pestering the guy!” Jill demands, tightening her grip on his shoulder.

Every hour that goes by is a hostage that doesn’t go home. How can Chris calm down? Jill’s grip on his shoulder is getting increasingly uncomfortable, her bony fingers digging into his skin, but he can’t help it. His instinct to react, to get those people out of there are hard to shake off.

Chris glances back at her, moving his shoulder in an attempt to get her to release her death-like grip, but the look on her face makes him pause for a moment. Jill’s eyes are wide, her attention solely on the station across the street. Her bottom lip is curled up under her teeth, the young woman biting into them with enough force to bleed.

The marksman glances at the rest of his team, all of them with a solemn expression on their faces. Even Richard looks like if someone kicked his puppy and the guy is usually trying to look on the bright side of even the worst situations.

The street is silent, despite the wail of the police sirens behind of them and the murmur created by the officers brought together by a large-scale situation like this. The flashing red and blue lights dance across the building, illuminating nothing yet everything.

Wesker is shouting into the megaphone again, trying to get the gunmen to cut their losses and turn themselves in, but Chris doesn’t hear the blonde, not over the resounding gunshot that echoes from within the building followed immediately by the screams of sheer terror from the hostages.

Chris doesn’t even command his legs to move, his body moving by its own accord, as if on instinct, he sprints across the street. He doesn’t even remember shaking Jill’s hand off or hearing Wesker demand for the marksman to wait.

Someone is dead. They’re dead because they stood around and did nothing. Because _he_ waited around for nothing.

Chris rams the double doors, forcefully shoving himself through, his shoulder protesting, but he doesn’t have time to focus on his numbing shoulder as his eyes land on the scene before him. The lobby is a mess, desks and chairs scattered across the room, some flipped on their sides, the signs of a struggle evident upon first glance. Chris immediately spots three bodies on the floor from where he stands, blood pooling around them. They’re all officers of this station.

The sound of soft whimpers and frightened cries draws the marksman’s attention to the far wall to the back of the station where there are at least ten hostages lined up, curled up on the floor and huddled as close together as they can, trembling in fear.

“This way!” Chris directs the frightened people.

The moment the hostages see Chris, they scurry over to him, practically tripping over their own feet and pushing each other out of the way as they hurry past the marksman and out the front door of the station.

“You have to help him!” one woman shouts as she points in front of her, Chris catching sight of a young civilian wrestling with one of the gunman just out of his line of sight behind a desk. The kid has a firm grip on the gunman’s right wrist, keeping the criminal from ending his life in that very instant.

“Shit,” Chris curses under his breath as he grips his gun firmly in his hands before a movement from the corner of his eye catches his attention. The marksman has a split second to react, his body instinctively diving to the floor as a barrage of bullets soar over where his head had just been a mere half a second ago. A bullet nicks his shoulder, Chris hissing as pain blossoms in the area. The second gunman managed to hit him.

The sound of screaming hostages reminds the marksman that he has no time to waste as he jumps up to his feet and takes aim, pulling the trigger the moment his eyes land on his target, the second gunman, his deadly aim hitting the criminal in the chest. The man in black collapses to the floor, motionless.

Chris chances a glance at the kid still fighting for his life, the civilian managing to knock the gun out of his assailant’s hand, both of them immediately lunging after it, fingers narrowly missing the weapon before the gunman grabs the kid by the ankles and drags him back away from the gun.

“Let go of him!” Chris yells as sprints into action, recklessly tackling the assailant off the kid, both of them landing in a tangled heap of limbs as the gunman tries to fight back. “Get out of here!” the marksman commands the civilian before he pistol whips the criminal in his arms on the back of the head, knocking him unconscious.

The civilian climbs to his feet, throwing a glance at Chris before his eyes shoot up to see something behind the S.T.A.R.S marksman. “Watch out!” the kid shouts, the third marksman finally making his appearance right behind of Chris, his gun pointed to the back of his head, finger on the trigger.

The sound of a gunshot resounds in the lobby of the station, the third gunman crumbling to the floor at Chris’ feet. It’s Wesker, the blonde man standing at the entrance, gun still aimed. Behind him, the other members of S.T.A.R.S hurry in, helping the remaining hostages out and securing the area.

“You couldn’t wait just one more second, could you?” the captain of S.T.A.R.S mutters, anger lacing his words. Chris can’t see the man’s eyes through his sunglasses, but he knows Wesker is sending him a murderous glare. If there is one thing the older man hates, it’s disobedience.

Chris glances at the civilian, glad that the kid is alright and watches as Forest ushers him out to safety, the kid glancing back at the marksman looking like he wants to say something before disappearing through the front doors of the station. 

“Shots were -” Chris starts his explanation for his rash actions, turning his attention to his captain before the man the marksman had pistol whipped out cold quickly staggers to his feet, diving through a door as bullets hit the wood, Wesker cursing under his breathe when he misses.

“He can’t get away!” Chris shouts as he dashes through the door the criminal had just escaped through, chasing the man down the hall. The gunman makes it to the emergency exit, but not much further as Chris practically throws himself at the man, tackling him right out the door and into the pavement.

The gunman grunts in pain as Chris pins him to the ground, raising his hand and curling his fingers into a fist before letting his knuckles connect with the criminal’s face. The back of the man’s head smacks against the pavement underneath him, a groan of pain escaping him before the marksman grabs the gunman’s mask and pulls it off. The man’s face elicits a surprised gasp out of Chris, the man staring up at him one the marksman is familiar with. Dale. A member of S.T.A.R.S Alpha Team.

“Dale...what?” Chris shakes his head, trying to wrap his head around all of this. He knows this man. They work together. He’s his teammate.

“Should have known Alpha’s suicidal idiot would have charged in as bullheaded as ever. You never cease to surprise, Chris,” Dale chuckles darkly despite the blood running down the side of his cheek from the split lip the marksman had given him.

“So it was you after all,” a third voice speaks up, Wesker stepping out into the alleyway with them. Chris glances at his captain, wide eyed at the older man’s calm, all-knowing tone.

Dale narrows his eyes at the blonde man, spitting out blood onto the pavement. “What the hell do you know?”

“I suspected this had to be the work of someone within the police force. Someone who knew the in and out of the station. Too bad you got the wrong information,” Wesker states, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What?” Dale hisses.

“I suspected you were taking part in illicit crimes a while ago. Too many things didn’t add up. You began working for Irving, doing all you could to keep S.T.A.R.S off his tracks for years, and when we finally arrested him, you knew he was never coming back out,” Wesker calmly explains as he crouches next to the fallen gunman, a man who used to report to him, but not anymore. Not after today. “You knew Irvin was being held here and you wanted to bust him out before he could be transferred to a maximum security prison. It’s too bad I already suspected as much and had him transferred earlier.”

The look on Dale’s face is murderous, his fingers twitching with the need to lash out at the captain of S.T.A.R.S, maybe even strangle him, but the other team members appear through the door, the look of confusion on their faces quickly turning into one of betrayal that mirror’s Chris’ as the truth of the situation dawns on them.

One of their very own is the cause of all of this. He betrayed them.

0o0

“How’s the kid?” Chris asks, blue eyes watching the civilian that had been wrestling with one of the gunmen as the medics examine him for any injuries in a separate ambulance.

“Doin’ pretty well, actually,” Barry states, glancing over at the kid for a moment before turning to Chris. “Before any of the gunmen could make due on their threat, the kid jumped up and tackled the guy.”

“Huh,” Chris blinks, surprised at how brave the kid had been. Brave or incredibly stupid, but in the end, other than the four officers killed in the initial assault on the station, no innocent civilians had died. It wouldn’t have turned out like this if the kid hadn’t steeled his nerves and tackled the gunman. “What about Dale?”

Barry is silent for a moment before answering the question. “Detained. There’s no question he had been part of this. Wesker looks like he wants to link him to other crimes too,” the older man grits his teeth before shaking his head.  “And you?” Barry asks, changing the subject, looking over the bandage on Chris’s shoulder.

“He’ll live. He’s just lucky the bullet only grazed him,” Jill states as she walks over to them. “I’m pretty sure that wound will barely hurt after Captain Wesker chews your head off for running in like that.”

“It was a reckless thing to do, but you did save their lives,” Barry adds, although his tone borders the one he uses to chastise one of his daughters, neither approving or disapproving of Chris’ actions. The marksman could argue that the results speak for themselves, but Captain Wesker will emphasize the method, the obedience - the orders that Chris had all but ignored as he had sprung into action.

“Chris,” Wesker’s voice cuts in, the blonde man walking up to them, posture as stiff and rigid as ever. “A word.”

Barry and Jill both turn to Chris, giving him a sympathetic look before they excuse themselves. The marksman can see the same look from the other S.T.A.R.S members on the scene. They all know what’s coming.

Chris sighs heavily before he sits up, blue eyes meeting the black expanse covering Wesker’s cold, calculating eyes. Just the aura emanating off the blonde man makes the marksman’s wound throb.

“Yes, captain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Resident Evil or any of it’s characters.
> 
> Author’s Note: And here is the end of Chapter 2! Poor Chris, he just can’t catch a break with Wesker. I like S.T.A.R.S and I think it would be exciting if there had been more on the team in the game before their untimely demise by Wesker and by more I mean some side mission or something.
> 
> Dale is just some character I made up as an extra member of S.T.A.R.S. Ricardo Irving, however, is not made up. He’s a villain in Resident Evil 5 for those who don’t remember him. 
> 
> This chapter is set in the past (1998) and so the next one is going to be set in the present (2012).


	4. Chapter 03 - Present (2012)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present (2012)

On most nights, when Chris Redfield closes his eyes, the same scene plays over and over again in his mind of a young boy he lost so many years ago. He doesn’t change. His hair is always that shade of light brown. His eyes are always full of youth, shining between gold and green. He’s always there, standing on the steps of an old house Chris has yet to identify. He only makes it to the first step before Piers is turning around. He always gets to throw his arms around Piers’ neck and in return the Sniper always says the same thing: _You should concentrate._

But this time, as Chris lets his consciousness slip away, he doesn’t see the old house. He doesn’t see Piers on the steps. He sees darkness, the silhouettes slowly emerging from the pitch black abyss looking like trees and in that moment, Chris recognizes the place. It’s the forest. He’s in the Arklay Mountains.

A sudden chill runs through his body, feeling as if it grips his heart before Chris’ eyes fly open and he sits up, gasping for air. He’s back in his room, in his apartment, the confirmation slowly coming to him as his deep brown eyes adjust to the darkness. The sheets feel heavy on his body and he absentmindedly kicks them off, running his fingers through his hair as he attempts to calm his breathing.

“Chris?” a soft voice calls out from right beside him, the older man having to take a moment to properly recognize it.

That’s right. Jill had offered to stay the night with him.

“That dream again,” is all she says and Chris knows the woman isn’t asking. Jill shifts, rolling onto her back, the sheets the older man had kicked off bunched up against her.

For the first time in a long time, the answer is actually no. It’s not that dream, well, not exactly. Piers hadn’t even been in it, but the captain purses his lips instead, deciding Jill doesn’t need to hear any more of this.

Chris slides his legs off the bed, hissing under his breathe when his bare feet make contact with the cold floor. He hears the dip of the mattress behind him before Jill’s arms drape over his bare shoulders, the warmth radiating off her welcomed.

“Don’t go,” she mumbles into his skin and the captain wonders if she really means it.

Chris glances down at his hands, staring at them for a long minute before his body moves. He stands, Jill’s arms sliding off him and back to the bed beside her. He slips off his sweats in favor of pulling on pair of jeans, moving to his drawer to fish out a shirt.

“You have to let go,” Jill says, prompting the captain to pause his rummaging through his drawer. Chris glances back at her, her blonde hair sticking up in odd angles from sleep. Her fingers pluck at the hem of her night gown, but her blue eyes seek his in the darkness. “Today made fourteen years, didn’t it? Chris, he’s not coming back.”

She’s waiting for an answer, but Chris doesn’t think anything he has to say would satisfy her. “I want to,” he settles for, and he means it.

Chris wants to be able to move on, to put Piers behind him and maybe even forget, but no matter how many times he attempts to push Piers to the back of his mind, he always comes back. He’s always in his thoughts, the only color in all the grey and black. Sometimes they act like if they think Chris _wants_ to put himself through this hell of missing Piers so damn badly that it aches. Like if he enjoys feeling like if there is a black hole where his heart should be. It’s been fourteen years and no one is more exhausted than Chris. He’s tired. Tired of searching...of waiting. If he could let Piers go, he would, but he loved. He loved that boy so damn much and Chris doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse anymore.

The answer doesn’t make Jill smile. It doesn’t make Chris feel any better either.

“Get some sleep,” Chris tells her before he slips out of the room, shutting the door behind himself.

0o0

It’s always the same. The sun hasn’t broken over the horizon, yet Chris is already up. He walks the familiar forest, trying to take different paths each time, but by this point, there isn’t one he hasn’t already trekked through.

He isn’t searching and yet at the same time he is. He doesn’t look between every tree, doesn’t keep a vigilant eye on his surroundings for clues that just don’t exist. Fourteen years of the same thing, Chris doesn’t expect anything to change. He knows that he has walked the area Piers disappeared and found nothing new. It’s more out of habit now. A way to calm his ever present anxiety. Taking a walk through the forest helps him get through the day because then he knows that he’s already made an attempt at searching for the day.  It quells the guilt at the pit of his stomach that always tells him he can’t sit around and do nothing. It suppresses the unsettling weight in his chest that arises every time he thinks that not doing so will allow people to forget. Allow him to forget. To forget that Piers once existed. Chris is unwilling to let that happen yet. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be willing.

This walk is no different, the tiny hope that had blossomed as a result of the dream extinguished. Piers hadn’t been present in that dream. The forest had, and it had been just as empty as this. It’s almost as if reality has finally begun to sink in.

The thought makes Chris halt in his steps. A dream without Piers. Like if he left. Like if he’s gone. No, not _like if_ , Piers _is_ gone. That’s a fact. Chris takes in a deep breath, not realizing he is trembling until he tries to pull out his pack of cigarettes, his fingers having trouble picking one out and placing it between his lips. 

Chris’ thoughts turn to Jill, the woman looking so alone on that bed. Her blue eyes glistening in the moonlight, unmoving as they watch him walk out yet again in search of a ghost. Piers is gone, but Jill isn’t. It’s a simple fact that should have been obvious to Chris before, but like the flame from his lighter that ignites and illuminates the darkness, the thought only now seems to take life.

Jill wants him to let Piers go. She’s not the only one. Claire also thinks it’s unhealthy. Even Barry has brought it up a few times. He’s had them worry over him so long now. Maybe it’s time to move on, and this time, Chris decides, he will do all that he can. He has tried before, but never with the resolution that comes with the reality of Piers being gone, and the Sniper has been, for the past fourteen years.

Taking a deep drag from his cigarette, Chris turns around, intent on making it back home early this time, but the sound of a twig breaking catches his attention. The captain turns around, brown eyes squinting in the direction the sound came from, but it doesn’t come again.

Chris pulls the cigarette out from between his lips, glancing at the burning end before he carefully places it on a boulder. He maneuvers around it, carefully scoping the area as he puts distance between himself and the faint glow. Chris knows what he heard and whether it’s an animal or not, it sounded too close to him for comfort. After so many years as a member of S.T.A.R.S, taking down dangerous criminals and terrorists and later to lead a team, Chris has learned to trust his gut.

Chris lets his back meet a tree, keeping deadly still as his eyes remain vigilant. A few minutes tick by - five, maybe ten -before the captain sees a silhouette move from beyond the trees, heading towards the faint glow of his cigarette. Whoever this is had seen Chris before the captain had been aware of there being another person in the forest with him.

Whoever this is, however, isn’t easily fooled, the person pausing before backing up, trying to get back into the deep cover of the trees. They must have amazing sight to be able to make out that the cigarette has been placed on the boulder from that distance and they must be pretty quick to realize that it’s a trap, but Chris is anything if not pretty intuitive himself and he wastes no time quickly yet quietly closing the distance between them.

By the time the stranger senses Chris’ approach, the captain is already on him. The figure startles, ducking out of Chris’ reach in a split second, but they hadn’t been expecting for the bigger man to tackle them to the ground, strong arms around the stranger’s small waist as they come crashing down face first.

The stranger yelps, Chris realizing it’s a young man before the tone of the voice makes his blood run cold and his muscles tense. It gives the young man the opening he needs to twist in Chris’ hold and land a kick square in the older man’s chest, Chris’ grip loosening just enough for the stranger to squirm free and pull himself away.

“Wait!” Chris calls out and to his surprise, the boy does, albeit a few feet away from him, knees drawn up and looking about ready to bolt if Chris gives him a reason to.

The young man is thin, lithe yet sturdy, giving by the power of his kick. His hair is short, Chris barely making it out as a shade of brown, the front styled into a flip that resonates so much in the captain that he feels his gut twist, but what steals the breath away from Chris’ lungs is the shine of those hazel eyes in the streams of moonlight filtering through the leaves above.

“Piers.”

It’s Piers. A Piers not a day older than the last time he had seen the Sniper fourteen years ago.

Chris’ words are stuck in his throat, along with his ability to breathe and his sanity. This can’t be happening. Maybe he had slipped and hit his head along the path. Maybe he’s lying unconscious somewhere, his mind only able to come up with a Piers that still looks twenty-one. A Piers still wearing the beige vest with the S.T.A.R.S logo because how else could he imagine the Sniper?

Piers furrows his brows at the captain, before the tenor voice that Chris has never been able to get out of his head speaks, “How do you know my name?” It sounds so different, so human as compared to the voicemail recording the older man had memorized by now, Chris realizing with dread that maybe he had forgotten the sound of Piers’ voice.

The words are a kick in the gut to Chris, but by this point, his stomach is too numb with the shock running through him. Piers’ next words however seal the deal.

“Who are you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Resident Evil and none of its characters are mine.
> 
> Author’s Note: And so Piers finally reappears! Chris’ stubborn need to keep searching for him finally pays off, although only after fourteen years have passed. This chapter is a little short, but I think it got the job done. I hope it’s interesting enough to have you looking forward to Chapter 4, which will be set in the past, by the way. Thank you for reading and please leave a review.


	5. Chapter 04 - Past (1998)

It’s an amazing shot, clean through the leg, the fleeing terrorist crumbling to the ground with a pained cry, his escape cut off. Chris is on the man in seconds, a knee digging roughly into his back as the marksman yank’s the terrorist’s hands behind his back.

Chris glances up at the roof of the nearest building, scanning the tops before his eyes jump the next one, clear blue eyes finding what, no, _who_ he’s looking for on the roof of the fifth building down.

Piers Nivans.

S.T.A.R.S newest member, a rookie with the skills to rival the rest of the unit. The kid is an excellent shot, made even more impressive by the fact that the target had been moving. By all means it may have been an impossible shot to make for anyone other than the new Sniper and the marksman himself.

It’s Piers’ first mission and he’s already proving to be the shining prodigy the rest of the team consider him to be. Chris remembers the first moment he laid eyes on the young man a little over a month ago. The marksman had been out for a month or so himself, courtesy of a broken leg from jumping out of a two story building. Chris is anything if not wholly committed to what he does. Chris had returned to the S.T.A.R.S office to find it practically empty, has track record of being a little late in the mornings betraying him when he has to search for the other members, the rest of the team huddled in the small shooting range they had towards the back of the building.

They’re all there, their backs turned to him, standing around and watching a young kid have a go at the targets. Chris only stands there for a few minutes, but what he observes is enough to deduce that the rookie is good. Really good. Each shot hits dead center in quick succession, the young man expertly reloading his Anti-Material rifle with practiced ease before bringing the rather large weapon back up and taking aim.

Wait, Anti-Material rifle? It’s a powerful gun, the recoil enough to knock even a seasoned soldier off their feet. It’s why the gun is used with a rifle stand, but this kid is taking those shots while on his feet, his lithe body handling the recoil like a pro.

Just where did Wesker find this kid?

"Chris, you shouldn't be here. Did the captain even call you back in?" Jill speaks up when she spots him, walking over to him and crossing her arms over her ample chest, raising an eyebrow at him.

Two weeks. The kid had been here for two weeks while Chris had been out and no one in S.T.A.R.S would tell him the details. The traitors. Neither she nor Barry would tell him about the newest member of Alpha and to make matters worse, they got the rest of the team involved. And if that wasn’t enough, not even anyone on Bravo would spill the beans. Figures they would all jump at the chance to mess with the marksman, he does have a reputation for playing pranks around the office, but that’s beside the point. He had been stuck in his apartment with a broken leg, the cast making it hard for him to move around and instead forced to watch TV and think, grow more and more curious about who had come to fill the spot Dale had left when he had been hauled off to prison.

“He’s good,” is Chris’ greeting, Jill glancing over at Alpha’s new member as well.

“He is,” the brunette agrees. “And to think he just walked into the office, wanting to apply to S.T.A.R.S. He’s lucky he caught Captain Wesker in a good mood. Speaking of which, does the captain know you’re back? I don’t recall him saying anything about you being back from your leave.”

The marksman frowns. “Let’s just say my leg is fine and there is no reason for me to take any more time off.”

 “Is there now?” a cool yet authoritarian voice says from behind Chris, the hair at the back of the marksman’s neck standing on end before he turns around.

“Good as new,” the marksman slides between his teeth, kicking out his leg in good measure. From beside him, Jill bites down on her bottom lip, trying to keep herself from smiling at the situation.

The shift of Wesker’s head to the left is the only indication Chris gets that the man isn’t looking at him anymore especially since it’s so hard to tell with the dark sunglasses the captain insists on wearing, even indoors.

“I’m glad you approve of our new member,” the blonde man expresses, yet Chris knows Wesker enough to know it wouldn't have mattered if the marksman had actually hated Piers’ guts instead, but Chris has no reason to. He hasn’t even said two words to the kid yet. Heck, he doesn’t even know what he looks like yet. The kid’s back is to him, his shemagh wrapped around his neck. Aside from the obvious details like his light brown hair, the marksman hasn’t seen his face yet. “You’ll be training him.”

Chris feels as if he had just been slapped in the face with this information. “What?”

“You’re the best marksman S.T.A.R.S has, aren’t you? And you’re so dedicated to the cause, it’s only right for you to take up the reigns in making sure the rookie fits right in,” Wesker elaborates, a cocky grin threatening to spread across his features. “Welcome back, Redfield. Maybe it would keep you from acting so recklessly,” Captain Wesker adds before he’s turning around and sauntering out of the room.

Is this Wesker’s way of trying to get the marksman to behave?

Chris turns his attention to Jill, the young woman shrugging before glances back at the rest of the team, the sound of gunfire having ceased about a minute ago. Edward’s excited voice carries over as he pats Piers on the back.

“He’s glad we’ve got another sniper on the team,” Jill fills Chris in. “Says he’ll train him in his footsteps.”

The newest member of Alpha puts down his rifle, finally turning around and giving Chris a look at him. Under 6ft and thin, youthful features making it hard to believe he’s anything over eighteen. Gorgeous gold eyes with mix of green specs meet clear blue and for a moment Chris forgets how to breathe. He's not sure if it's due to the adrenaline of barging into the station when Wesker hasn’t even called him back in or the captivating gaze of the young man. Two things cross Chris' mind: (1) fuck, he's hot, and (2) really hot.

Chris remains frozen place even as the newest member of Alpha crosses the range over to him, the marksman too busy berating himself in his head for letting the thought that the kid is attractive be the first thing that occurs to him upon finally seeing him. Piers takes a moment to greet Jill before he’s back to pinning the marksman with those sharp oculars.

“Chris Redfield, right?”  he asks, Chris’ eyes tearing themselves away only to focus on his lips, which isn’t much better since they distract him enough that he almost forgets the kid has asked him something. It’s only when the new guy lets his hand drop back down to his side that he realizes he had been offering his hand for Chris to shake.

Jill is frowning, arms crossed over her chest, the disapproving look on her face clearly directed at him, but Chris doesn’t need that look for him to know that had been a dick move on his part.

“Uh yeah, that’s me,” Chris finally finds his brain, offering his hand to the young man who furrows his brows at it. The marksman doesn’t blame the kid for slowly lifting his hand again and shaking Chris’ after the marksman had ignored the rookie’s attempt at a handshake the first time. _What a way to make a first impression, Redfield._ “Nivans, Piers, right?”

Piers nods, gratefully not paying much mind to Chris’ attempted failures to be a normal, sociable human being, “That’s right. I’m glad to finally get to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” Chris mumbles before he realizes he is still gripping the rookie’s hand. He releases it in favor of bringing it up to rub at the back of his neck. “That’s some excellent marksmanship skills you’ve got there. I’m impressed.”

Hazel blink up at Chris before a wide smile takes over those full lips, a fire dancing behind that captivating gaze and once again the marksman finds himself struggling to breathe properly.

“Welcome to S.T.A.R.S,” the marksman smiles back. So maybe Chris isn’t doing as bad as he had originally thought, especially not if Piers can smile at him like this.

And maybe having him around won’t be so bad. Chris hasn’t been wrong about that thought. The kid is every bit as good as he thinks he is, his first mission with S.T.A.R.S’ Alpha team going off without a hitch. If Wesker thought having Piers around was going to stop him, he had been dead wrong. Quite the contrary, the young Ace is just as hot blooded as he is if not more, his sense of justice rivaled by Chris’. Piers fit right in.

The unit rendezvoused at their designated place, Chris catching Edward patting Piers on the back and offering words of praise. Jill hadn’t been kidding when she had said Edward will take Piers under his wing.

Hazel stray away from Edward and find Chris’, despite the members of the team between them. There’s a question in Piers’ gaze that the marksman can’t quite make-out and the Sniper doesn’t waver, as if waiting for something, Chris noticing his adam’s apple as he swallows.

The marksman responds with a thumbs up, a genuine smile gracing his lips as he walks over to the younger man.

“Great job out there,” Chris pats the rookie’s shoulder, Piers’ eyes widening, but not out of shock or surprise, but out of admiration, the marksman’s praise making him smile widely.

It’s in that moment that the older man finally identifies the questioning, almost insecure look Piers had had on his face just moments before. He wanted to know if he had earned Chris’ approval. Why his opinion would matter so much escapes the marksman, but he can’t stop the way his own grin widens at being held with such regard.

“Drinks on me, tonight!” Edward hollers, receiving cheers from the team.

0o0 

It’s a relatively small pub, the low lighting casting a warm glow in the place as Chris steps through the door. There are a few customers at the bar, and he immediately spots both Alpha and Bravo team seated at a table together, drinks already going around.

Forest looks up, spotting the marksman and waving him over. “Chris! Finally, man,” he laughs, already slurring and swaying with the tell-tale sign of drunkenness.

“How late am I if Forest is already drunk off his ass?” Chris grins, taking the last available seat between Jill and Richard.

The marksman glances around, grinning at his teammates, catching sight of the rookie between Edward and Brad. He’s glad the kid could make it, this night is for him, after all. A first mission well done deserves a celebration.

“I’m not drunk,” Forest protests, downing another drink and Chris isn’t sure if it had been meant to prove him wrong or not. “You’re just always late. You were supposed to be here an hour ago. No wonder the captain calls you Latefield.”

“He doesn’t call me that,” Chris protests, furrowing his brows and shaking his head.

“He should! He doesn’t even call you by name anymore. Ever thought maybe that’s the reason why?” the drunk man at their table laughs.

Chris rolls his eyes, watching as Forest turns to the bar and asks for another round of drinks even though he and Kenneth are the only ones who have finished theirs.

“That’s not why, Forest,” Richard speaks up, elbowing Chris on the arm and flashing him a sly grin. “It’s because Chris is always trying to smoke behind his back. You lost first name privileges, Chris.”

The waiter comes by, handing out a few more drinks, the marksman grateful for his since it seems tonight the team is gonna let him have it. It’s playful and all, but none of the reasons they could come up with would come close to the real reason the captain of S.T.A.R.S reverted to last name basis with him, and even then, the blonde man would prefer not to address him at all if he could.

“Ouch,” Chris jokes, as if being called by first name by Wesker is anything special. It had been to him once, and the marksman tries to bury the wave of hurt that comes over him at that fact. He’ s just trying to mask the pain.

“The captain doesn’t talk to you?” that’s the rookie’s voice, Chris glancing up to meet Piers’ eyes and seeing the curiosity in them.

“Oh, he does, it’s just that the captain calls us all by our first names. He used to for Chris too, but now he doesn’t. He’s the _only_ one,” Edward explains before he tilts his head towards the marksman. “Why is that, Chris?”

Chris shrugs, “I don’t know what you guys are talking about.” He brings the drink to his lips, earning chuckles from the occupants at the table.

“Yeah y’do! C’mon, what d’you do that finally did it?” Forest urges, slamming his glass on the table, gaze trained on Chris.

“Why am I the center of conversation again?” the marksman cocks an eyebrow in question, Jill patting him on the arm.

“Cause you were late,” the brunette offers as an explanation, grinning and looking just as curious as the rest of the team.

“I say it’s because he doesn’t finish his paperwork,” Barry proposes, Chris shooting him a look as if to ask why he’s also joining in. The older man shrugs, grinning as he gulps down his alcohol.

“It’s because he’s better than the captain with a gun,” Kenneth supplies, adding to the ring of suggestions.

“Wait, are you guys serious or are you just messing with me?” Chris has to ask, glancing around at the sly faces, all except Piers who hasn’t been with them long enough to catch on himself.

“Guys, lay off,” Jill sticks up for the marksman, sitting up and leaning forward on the table.

“At least _someone_ is on my side tonight,” Chris mutters into his beverage. “Thanks, Jill.”

The marksman had thanked her too soon, her next words leaving him with his mouth hanging open at the brunette, “He doesn’t want people to know that him looking better in sunglasses than the captain is the real reason.”

The table erupts into a fit of laughter, Chris himself not able to hold back his own laugh.

“Alright, alright,” Chris manages between his chuckles. “Enough about me. Tonight is about Piers, isn’t it?”

At the mention of his name, Piers’ eyes widen, most likely not expecting for the attention to shift to him. Piers shoots a glance at the marksman for putting the spotlight on him and making him the next target of playful banter.

“That’s right,” Edward grins, glancing at the younger man beside him and lifting his glass into the air. “To Piers! After today, you’re officially a full-fledged member. Welcome to the team!”

They all copy Edward, drinks in the air as they cheer, Piers grinning like if he had just won the lottery. He’s not just a member of S.T.A.R.S anymore, he’s one of them. Part of the group. Part of the family.

They spend the night like that, playful banter back and forth and drinks going around. Barry is the first one to excuse himself, saying he needs to get home to his family. Jill had dragged Chris to dance at some point, and while she had started out by his side, somewhere in the group of drunk bodies, Chris managed to wander away. He’s not a dancer, not at all and just swayed to the beat, but now he’s just craving more alcohol.

The marksman makes his way out of the crowd and back to their table, only seeing Piers sitting there by himself. He hadn’t even noticed when the others had left, or are they somewhere around the pub?

Chris saunters over to the table, plopping down a seat down from the Sniper, “Where’s Forest?”

The younger man looks up at him, “Brad and Richard took him home.”

“And you? You just gonna sit here all night?” the marksman inquires, resting his elbows on the table as he leans forward.

Piers shrugs, “The night’s almost over.”

“And yet you’re still on your second drink,” Chris points out, glancing down at the alcohol he’s sure must be warm by now.

Piers blinks at him, glancing down at the drink in his hand before a small grin finally makes its way across his features, “You got me.”

“Not much of a drinker?” the marksman asks, wanting more alcohol himself but not in the mood to get up and get one. He grabs the glass from Piers, confirming that yes, it is warm.

“No,” the Sniper admits, raising an eyebrow at Chris. “You gonna finish that?”

“Nah, hot beer is the worse,” Chris says with a shake of his head, pushing the drink towards the center of the table.

“You sound like if you’ve tried it.”

“I’ve tried lots of stuff, kid.”

Piers furrows his brows at the marksman, “Kid?” He sits up straighter at the name, lifting his chin up as if trying to appear bigger than what he really is. “Not a kid.

“What are you, eighteen?”

“Twenty,” the Sniper answers, narrowing his eyes at the marksman at his suggestion.

“You’re still a kid,” Chris grins.

Piers snorts at that, “And how old are you, exactly?”

“Twenty-four,” Chris answers truthfully, although by the way the Sniper’s brows shoot up he wonders if he should have said twenty-eight or something older. He can guess what Piers is going to say next, proven right when the Sniper opens his mouth.

“That’s barely older than me!”

“No it isn’t,” Chris grins. “Four years is a lot.”

“Only a kid would say that,” the Sniper smirks, Chris’ grin widening at that.

“You calling me a kid?”

“Yah,” Piers affirms, resting his own elbows on the table and leaning forward, almost as if challenging the older man. “What’cha gonna do ‘bout it?”

“Oh, boy,” Chris chuckles, not backing away from the Sniper. “Just wait till I start teaching you hand-to-hand combat. You won’t be so cheeky then.”

Piers grins back, that determination flaring up in his hazel eyes again, “I can’t wait.”

Chris mirrors the Sniper’s grin, silently accepting the challenge. The marksman isn’t someone to be taken lightly when it comes to close combat, his training in both the air force and S.T.A.R.S making him the best in the unit. He’s looking forward to this and he can tell by the look in the Sniper’s eyes that he is too.

Piers fits right in, alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Resident Evil isn’t mine! Neither are any of the characters!
> 
> Author’s Note: This chapter gave me so much stress! I had a draft that I ended up rewriting cause I just didn’t like it and ended up with this. Still not entirely happy with it and it’s not my favorite chapter so far, but at least Piers has finally been introduced alive and in the flesh. There’s no BSAA in this universe because there is no bio-terror, so all Raccoon has got is S.T.A.R.S. Also, I haven’t forgotten about Rebecca. She’ll make an appearance soon. 
> 
> The next chapter is set in the present (2012). Please let me know if you enjoyed this chapter or the story in general. I’ll really appreciate it.


	6. Chapter 05 - Present (2012)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present (2012)

His arms feel heavy on his legs as Chris leans forward in his seat, resting his upper body weight on his knees. Anyone would think he’s not feeling well. They might even think he’s just received some pretty bad news, especially with the way his head hangs low, gaze on the floor, but the captain wouldn’t be able to say if it’s bad or good yet, especially since the shock has yet to fully leave his system.

Feet shuffle across his peripheral vision - doctors, nurses, patients - Chris isn’t sure, but that’s not his focus to begin with.  They all have somewhere to be, hurrying around and adding to the hasty bustling that usually sets the atmosphere at a hospital. The sound of heels making contact with the tiled floor hardly registers with Chris, not until the owner of those heels peel away from the traffic in the hall and stop in front of him, the polished shoes catching in the artificial light and making his dingy old boots look even worse for wear.

“Chris,” a female voice calls out to him, a mixture of sympathy and professionalism.

There’s mud on his boots, the captain realizes. The sole splitting at the front, making his boots look worn out even though he had only gotten the pair no more than two months ago.

A sigh comes from the woman before she moves to take a seat beside him, Chris finally turning his gaze to take in Sheva Alomar’s profile. Her dark brown her is pulled into a low ponytail, side bangs framing her soft face. Red frames rest on her nose, adding to her air of maturity even though she is pretty young.

Sheva’s golden eyes find Chris’ and the older man can see the concern behind them along with the bewilderment. It’s not everyday someone finds their boyfriend that has been missing for the past fourteen years. It’s not every day that said boyfriend hasn’t aged a day in those long, agonizing fourteen years.

“I must admit,” Sheva starts. “I can’t say I understand how you are feeling.” Chris lets his gaze drop back to his boots, the dark haired agent shifting in her seat to face him slightly. “I’m going to need you to explain it to me again.”

“I already told you all I know,” the captain of S.T.A.R.S grunts. How many more times is he going to have to repeat himself?

“I get a call from you in the middle of the night saying you found him. A little warning would have been nice, I must add, but I need you to give me more, Chris,” Sheva tries again, golden eyes steady on the side of the man’s face. 

Chris purses his lips, but he supposes he understands where Sheva is coming from. “In the forest. I heard someone nearby, so I went to investigate and I found him. That’s it.”

“That’s it? He just pops up from behind a tree?”

“More or less. He tried to get away from me,” Chris nods before he adds. “He doesn’t know who I am.”

Sheva furrows her brows at that, “But he’s been asking for you.”

Chris shakes his head, “I don’t think it’s _me_ he’s asking for. You weren’t there when the doctor asked him if he can remember what date it is. He can, but he got the year wrong. He thinks it’s 1998.”

Sheva’s eyes widen at that, her body tensing as her fingers curl into the fabric of her skirt, “Chris, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that Piers is stuck in the past. I don’t know how or why, but he hasn’t aged,” Chris pauses enough to hear the absurdity in his own words. “I don’t think he’s aged in body or mind.”

“That’s impossible,” Sheva says, but there’s no bite to her words. It’s more of a reaction, her eyes wide as she tries process what Chris is telling her. “Are you sure he remembers nothing? Has he told you anything?”

“No,” the captain sighs.

It had been hell to convince Piers that he will help him, having to mention that he’s part of S.T.A.R.S, but he hadn’t told him just who exactly he is. Chris had called Sheva then, the woman having been on Piers’ case since the beginning and with the older man’s brain drawing blanks, she had been the first one to pop into his head. Sheva had known what to do, the cops arriving at the base of the mountain where he and Piers had been waiting for them.

Sheva purses her lips, “Nothing about what happened to him? Even before he disappeared?”

“No,” Chris repeats himself before adding. “He doesn’t recognize me. He asked me for my name. He asked me if he’s seen any S.T.A.R.S members around the mountains. He asked me to contact his boyfriend Chris Redfield.”

The corner of Sheva’s lips twitch downward at the captain’s last statement. “So he finally appears and he remembers nothing?” the woman says more to herself than to her companion.

Chris can almost see the thoughts running through her head. There has to be a reasonable explanation for this. A strange condition, a horrible case of amnesia - something that would explain all of this. He has a fairly good idea about what she’s thinking because the same thoughts have crossed his mind over and over again.

0o0 

Piers is healthy. Two days of tests and the physicians can find nothing wrong with him. He’s the unprecedented discovery of the century, or at least that’s how it feels like to Chris as he watches the white coats hustle in and out of the room. It’s piqued everyone's interest, the boy who looks exactly the same as he did fourteen years ago. More than that, the kid still thinks he’s living in that time period.

Chris himself hasn’t been able to set foot the room. He contemplates it, but it’s hard to cross the threshold. Sheva and Josh have been busy as the detectives on Piers’ case, Sheva understanding how hard this must be for him and keeping him updated on Piers’ condition. The first day had been the worse, Piers unable to wrap his mind around the possibility of fourteen years passing in one night, because that’s what it had been to Piers - one night. One night where nothing has changed. One night that jumped from 1998 to 2012.

Piers stopped talking on the second day, refusing to answer any more questions and having some of his own, but with no one to trust to get answers from. He might be in denial, maybe even shock, Sheva had told him. There is only one thing on Piers’ lips now: Chris Redfield. He wants to see Chris, keeps asking for him, but the captain is pretty sure he’s not the Chris the Sniper has in mind.

“You should talk to him,” a deep voice says, Chris looking up to see Josh Stone approach him, a cup of coffee in each hand. Josh offers him one, Chris silently grateful for it as he takes it. The sleepless nights are getting to him. He doesn’t even think he’s gone home yet, the hospital halls being his temporary stay for the past few days.

It’s strange to have Josh approach him, Chris’ eyes wandering to find Sheva leaning against the wall, quietly watching them.

“He’s not budging until he talks to you, it seems,” Josh explains, taking a sip from his coffee. “It’s for the best that we clear all this up. I think talking to you might do just that.”

Chris purses his lips, he knew there had to be a reason Josh would approach him. The man is all work with little room for anything else. He only talks about facts, things that pertain to the case. He is in no means a cold man, just finds it hard to stray from his professional disposition. Chris can relate to that, he himself being known for getting lost in his work.

“I don’t see how talking to me will help in any of this,” Chris answers, watching as the steam rises from his drink. Piers doesn’t want to talk to the captain of S.T.A.R.S, he wants to talk to his boyfriend.

“He’s having a hard time believing what year it is. I think seeing someone from the past will help,” Josh explains, glancing at the space beside Chris before asking, “May I?” Chris simply nods, the agent taking a seat beside him, resting his elbows on his knees just as the captain is doing. “He’s asking for you. Won’t talk until he sees you. Piers needs to cooperate. He needs to understand the reality he now finds himself in. We can’t help him if he won’t let us.” 

“He’s not asking for _me_. You said it yourself, he doesn’t want to accept fourteen years have passed,” Chris shrugs, but his heart constricts in his chest, feeling as the hot coffee burns a trail down his throat to his stomach.

“He’s asking for Chris Redfield and the last time I checked, that’s you,” Josh states matter-of-factly. “You can’t tell me that you don’t want to talk to him. I know you do. You are both confused. You both have questions that only the other can answer. This will do him some good. It will do you good.”

Josh isn’t really known for his friendly words of encouragement, the only exception being Sheva. They’re more than partners, even Chris can see it. Sheva is the opposite of Josh, however, more in tune with the emotions of the people involved in the cases she’s assigned to. He would have expected this talk from her, but still, Josh’s words resonate in his mind. He does have questions. Fourteen years worth of them and now that Piers has finally appeared, why is he sitting out here mulling it over and not seeing things for himself? What is he so afraid of? Piers already doesn’t recognize him, but he at least remembers him. He knows there is a Chris Redfield. That’s a start, isn’t it? This fourteen yearlong case needs to come to an end, Chris realizes. Not just for him, but for all of those involved as well.

“Alright,” the captain nods, throwing his head back and drinking the rest of his coffee in one go. This is as much liquid courage as he’ll get, the black coffee a sorry substitute for what he is really craving right now. “Thanks.”

Chris pushes up from his seat, feeling his back protest from the hours spent hunched over. One foot after the other, he walks over to Piers’ room, Sheva and Josh’s gazes both hard on his back. Ready or not, he’s doing this. Chris lets his knuckles tap on the door, taking a moment to glance back at Josh and Sheva, their encouraging nods giving him that extra boost of confidence he needs to push the door open the rest of the way.

“Piers?” Chris calls out, lingering by the door before he hears the tenor that still sends chills down his spine.

“Come in,” Piers answers, and Chris hears the shuffling on the bed before the older man walks into the room, nerves feeling harder than steel as brown eyes land on the lone patient.

He’s just so young. So unchanged. There is no doubt that the man sitting there is Piers, his features clear as day in the lit room. Mix emotions flood Chris - relief, anxiety, longing - and others the captain has no mind to try and identify right now, not with Piers right there in front of him.

There is recognition in Piers’ eyes, a flutter of hope rising in Chris’ chest, growing stronger at the Sniper’s next words, “I know you…”

“Yeah, it’s me,” the captain breathes out, taking a step closer to the bed.

“You’re that guy who found me and brought me here,” Piers deadpans, leaning back against his pillows. Chris’ jaw snaps shut, feeling the confidence he thought he had melt into the floor. “You in on this elaborate scheme too?”

Scheme? Is that what Piers thinks all of this is? The words hurt, sting at him and all his years of searching, of waiting, but then again, Piers doesn’t know that, does he? He understands where Josh is coming from when he says Piers needs to accept that this is all real.

“There is no scheme,” Chris finds his voice, reversing that step forward he had taken.

“Here we go,” Piers sighs, sinking further into the bed and crossing his arms over his chest. “So now it’s your turn to come in here and tell me that I’ve been missing for the last fourteen years? First the doctors, then those detectives, and now you? Who are you supposed to be, anyway?”

Chris feels his throat go dry, “I’m Chris.”

If Piers had been upset before, the fury behind his eyes is almost palpable now. “None of this is funny. I’m getting sick and tired of this shit. When will this bad joke end?”

Chris feels like if he had just been slapped in the face. So many years of searching and when he finally does find the missing boy, Piers doesn’t recognize him? What’s more, he thinks he’s lying? This is some sick hell that he’s been put in and he wonders just what he did to deserve it.

“I’m Chris,” Chris repeats himself, more forcefully this time.

“Enough with this bullshit! Is that all you came to say? Get out!” Piers huffs, pointedly looking away from the older man.

Chris’ catches sight of something on the Sniper’s neck, fading marks on his neck that look suspiciously like… Realization dawns on the captain as he takes a step forward without even thinking it through, only stopping when Piers turns to him, hazel narrowing in wariness to the older man’s approach.

“Can I…?” Chris finds his voice, lifting his hand and indicating towards the younger male. When Piers doesn’t answer him, the captain slowly leans forward, fingers slightly brushing the Sniper’s neck as he pushes aside his shirt, revealing the fading marks on his skin. Marks that Chris can put a name to: hickeys. “Who did these?”

Piers shifts away from the older man, Chris pulling his hand back to his side. The Sniper doesn’t look like he’ll answer, but he does, “My boyfriend, Chris. You know, that guy you’re claiming to be?” he spits out before he averts his gaze away, mumbling softly. “I don’t understand why he’s not here….”

_I am here_ , Chris wants to say, feeling his stomach twist at the thought that Piers is waiting for him. Since day one the Sniper has been asking for him. He refuses to cooperate unless he sees his boyfriend. The captain can’t bear to look at Piers’ dejected expression, especially when it dawns on him that the Ace must think his boyfriend doesn’t want to see him. To be brought to the hospital and subjected to tests. To be probed for questions and be told it’s 2012. Chris doesn’t know if Piers is suffering from some strange condition or amnesia or whatever, but he does know this must be confusing and stressful on the Sniper as well. Piers is just as much as a victim as everyone involved.

“Fourteen years ago, I put these marks on your neck,” Chris speaks before he can choose his words carefully. The statement makes Piers turn, brows furrowed and lips drawn into a deep frown.

“It was _my_ boyfriend. Three days ago,” Piers says carefully, no room for argument, but Chris does anyway. He has to.

“It was me. In my car. The one I was fixing,” Chris elaborates. “You remember, right? The sports car I had in my garage for months? You would drop by and help me.”

Piers shakes his head, frown still etched into his features, “That wasn’t you.”

“It was _me_. Piers, I’m Chris,” the captain tries, determination settling in. Piers has to recognize him. He must see that he’s the same person. “I have a sister, Claire. You remember her, right?”

“Why do you keep asking if I remember? I haven’t forgotten anything!”

“That’s right, cause it’s only been a few days for you, right? Then you know what happened that night. We were called in to search for Bravo. You went with Wesker even though I didn’t want you to. Do you remember the last thing I said to you?”

Piers scoots up in the bed, his back against the headboard as he tries to put some space between him and the rambling stranger. Chris warily realizes that he must sound insane to the Sniper, he doesn’t even want to consider how he must look. Some thirty-nine-year-old man claiming to be a twenty-five-year-old.

“What are you talking about?” the younger man asks warily, hazel trained on brown.

“Don’t do anything stupid, I said that to you, didn’t I?” He had and Chris had regretted it every moment since, the words repeating hour of every day.

“ _Chris_ said that to me,” Piers counters, stressing his boyfriend’s name as if it held all the answers.

“Yeah, _I_ did. And then what happened after that?”

“I...I got separated from Wesker,” Piers pauses before he meets Chris’ eyes.  “And then you tackle me to the ground and drag me here, trying to make me believe it’s 2012.”

“It is 2012. Piers, I need you to understand you’ve been gone for fourteen years. I’m not twenty-five anymore. I’ve aged, Piers,” Chris’ voice is borderline begging, the older man realizing how ragged he sounds as the desperation seeps into his voice.

Piers shakes his head, “Would you just stop that?”

“I’m thirty-nine and you’re supposed to be thirty-five. Do you really think this is all a joke? These are real doctors, real detectives. This is real Piers,” Chris stresses, Piers looking uncomfortable as he slowly tries to edge away from the older man. “You want Chris, I’m here,” the captain says, the look of disbelief not leaving Piers’ face. “We were both part of S.T.A.R.S. I was the marksman and you were the sniper, the only sniper after Edward died. You took his death hard and you recklessly chased down his killer. Wesker was furious with us.”

Piers blinks at him, lips parting and closing before he finds his words, “You heard about that somewhere.”

“You have a phobia of ball pits, hating them since you were a kid. And when you’re upset, you sing along to songs until you feel better. You told me, remember? After what happened to Claire and I was so angry?” the words are flowing out of his lips now, Chris digging into the recesses of his mind for anything he can use to convince Piers that this is all real. He is Chris. _His_ Chris.

The shock is evident on the younger man’s face, “Who told you that?”

“No one did. It was me, Piers,” the captain tries again, fingers curling into his jacket with the need to cling to something. He needs Piers to recognize him. He can’t leave here today without the Sniper knowing it’s him or else it would be like if Piers had never returned. Like if he’s still missing. 

“Someone had to tell you that,” Piers refuses with a shake of his head, but Chris can see the way he trembles. “Did Chris tell you to say that?”

“No, I _am_ Chris. Still don’t believe me? Piers, you ran away from home. Split ties from your family and when you tried to fix things with them, I drove thirteen hours from Raccoon to Tall Oaks to get to you after your parents kicked you out.”

“H-how do you know that?” the tremors have slipped into Piers’ voice, hazel staring into brown so intently that Chris feels as if he’s trying to see through him. See through his tricks. His lies, but there aren’t any. It’s all true.

“Because I was there. It’s me,” Chris breathes out. “I held onto you and brought you home. To me and Claire.” Chris reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. He clumsily rummages through it, tossing a card onto Piers’ lap. “That’s my license. Chris Redfield,” he says, noting from the corner of his eye as the Sniper picks it up with trembling hands. “And this,” the older man adds, pulling out a crumbled photo and resting it on the bed, “That’s us.”

Piers slowly reaches for it, pulling the picture closer to see the Chris he knows, young and looking twenty-five with his arm slung over his own shoulder. The corners of the photograph are folded, creases etched into the paper from years of folding and unfolding.  The Sniper stares at the picture even as Chris places one final document on the bed, hazel tearing themselves away from the worn photo to the piece of paper not looking much better, also folded over multiple times. It’s his own face, the words _missin_ g printed in bold, blocky letters.

“I... what is this?” Piers gasps, grasping the flyer by the corner as if it will erupt into flames.

“Piers, look at me,” when the Sniper sits there staring at the evidence, Chris tries again. “Look at me.” Hazel flutter up to meet dark brown, Chris’ determined expression keeping Piers’ gaze on him. “Look at me and tell me that you don’t recognize me…”

Piers furrows his brows, but he does as the older man asks. Hazel wonder over sharp features, from the curve of Chris’ nose to the captain’s jaw covered in stubble. From the older man’s lips back up to his eyes where they stay, piercing gaze as sharp as ever making Chris feel as if the Sniper is looking right through him again. Piers doesn’t move, but the captain can almost see the thoughts running through the younger man’s mind, especially when those eyes widen, recognition settling in as the Ace takes in a sharp breath.

Piers’ reaction, however, is less than ideal.

“No way,” shakily escapes Piers lips before he’s backing up, but he’s already against the headboard and has nowhere to go but up. Chris’ license and the papers slide down the sheets. “No way!” he says louder this time, almost in a shout as he curls into himself at the edge of the bed.

Chris is at the side of the bed in a heartbeat, thighs pressed against it as he reaches out to the younger man, “Piers?”

“This can’t be happening,” Piers gasps, looking between the photograph on the bed and the older man, flinching when Chris reaches out to him again.

A hand on Chris’ shoulder pulls him away from Piers, only then does Chris realize a medic had entered the room and had been trying to get his attention.

“Can you step out, please?” the white coat requests, but it sounds more like a command.

Chris throws a glance at Piers, wanting to protest, but the small frame trembling slightly as hazel train on the photo and the missing poster on the bed change his mind. Piers looks shaken up. So lost and confused.

Chris nods, letting the medic escort him out, a nurse slipping past him into the room. He can hear Piers asking questions - no, more like demanding answers - sounding confused and bewildered. The Sniper seems to have finally understood that this is all real. What felt like one night to him is really the passage of fourteen years. Fourteen long years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Resident Evil and none of its characters belong to me.
> 
> Author’s Note: Ok, so this one is pretty long but at least Chris and Piers finally got to interact. Chris pulls himself together and talks to Piers and the Sniper gets one hell of a shock when he finally realizes fourteen years have passed. I like Josh and Sheva and I hope they’re not too out of character here.
> 
> The next chapter will be set in the past (1998). Please review and let me know how I’m doing! Thanks for reading.


	7. Chapter 06 - Past (1998)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Past (1998)

Chris can feel the sweat rolling down the nape of his neck, soaking into the damp shirt sticking to his heated skin. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, exhaling through his nose as the sound of boots crunching on the gravel reach his ears, glancing back at the two catching up to him.

He’s not the only one with red cheeks courtesy of the blazing sun high in the afternoon sky, Piers and their new trainee Rebecca Chambers are flushed from their cheeks down to their necks and shoulders. 

Piers has barely been with them for three months before Wesker hired Rebecca, talented despite her young age of eighteen, her expertise in chemistry earned her a position in S.T.A.R.S. She’s the first medic to join the unit and Chris idly wonders if it has anything to do with his track record for running head first into danger and coming out scathed more times than not.

Inexperienced and a little shy, Rebecca’s nerves sometimes get the better of her, but her eagerness to learn and take on any task assigned to her is what has her out here in the training field in the first place. Once the young rookie heard that Chris had been training Piers in hand-to-hand combat, Rebecca had jumped at the chance to ask if she could accompany them. What had started out as standing in the sidelines observing quickly turned into Chris also teaching her the techniques he knew.

Training rookies hand-to-hand combat isn’t in his job description, but he would make an exception for Piers and Rebecca any day, especially with the way they both seem to have admiration and respect in their eyes whenever they’re around him. Chris can get used to that. Besides, just roughly two years ago give or take he had been the newest member in S.T.A.R.S. Though he had prior experience in combat thanks to his time on the Air Force, he still needed to adjust to the unit, Barry and Jill there to help him out. Chris has no problem doing the same for the rookies.

“Tired already?” Piers asks, hunched over with his hands on his knees as he tries to catch himself from the laps they had just completed. 

It’s important to build stamina and endurance, which is why after Chris shows them a technique he has them run a lap around the field. Then they practice the technique until they get the hang of it before running another lap. By the time they’re done, even the marksman himself has to drag his feet back to his truck.

“Not even close,” the marksman flashes him a small grin, but he can see that both he and Rebecca can use a little break. The sun is merciless today and he’s feeling the effects himself. “Take five.”

“Thank heaven,” Rebecca sighs before she plops down on the ground, legs out in front of her as her hands run through her short red hair, bangs sticking to her temples.

Chris chuckles at that before he pulls his old Nokia from his back pocket. He doesn’t usually keep his phone on him, but this time he has a very good reason. He’s expecting a call from his sister any minute now. As if on cue, his phone rings and Chris answers it, greeted by a voice that he could identify anywhere.

“Claire, you in the state already?” Chris asks, turning away from the rookies glancing in his direction curiously.

“Yup. I’ll be there in the next hour or so,” Claire chirps back into the phone, a loud humming making it hard for the marksman to hear her.

“Are you calling me while on your bike?” the marksman frowns, easily identifying the revving of his sister’s motorcycle. “I know I’ve told you not to do that.”

“You’re the one who told me to call you,” the younger Redfield answers automatically as if she knew her brother would bring it up.

Chris fights the urge to hiss into the receiver. “Just get here,” he tells her before he adds. “Safely, please.”

“Ok, see you in a bit,” Claire answers before she hangs up.

Chris tucks the phone back into his back pocket, shaking his head. He’s convinced that Claire really has no idea how many mini heart-attacks she provokes in her brother. He runs a hand through his hair, telling himself Claire had been born to ride that bike before he turns back to the rookies.

Piers had sat down on the ground beside Rebecca, the two of them discussing the technique Chris had shown them earlier in the afternoon. He’s sure he told them to take a break, but then again, the rookies are committed to putting in hard work, dedicated to their jobs. Piers never tires of practicing with his rifle, opting to even switch weapons in order to improve his skills with the other guns as well. Rebecca needs a lot of physical training, but even so, she keeps up with Chris and Piers, reminding the marksman of Jill in so many ways. That might also be the reason Jill has taken a shine to Rebecca as well, the two being the only females on the unit while also not taking ‘no’ for an answer.

Chris’ gaze strays back from Rebecca to Piers, the hair he keeps immaculately styled sticking to his sweaty forehead. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple, tracing his jaw before traversing the expanse of his neck down to his collarbone. The marksman can’t help but follow it before he forces himself to turn away, light blue eyes landing on Richard and Forest, the two also having taken to the training field a little after he had with Piers and Rebecca.

“Cute together, aren’t they?” Forest grins at the marksman before jutting his chin out at the direction of Piers and Rebecca. “The rookies.”

The frown on Richard's face deepens, Chris only then noticing it before he turns back to the two in question, animatedly chatting away over something as tedious as hand-to-hand combat, but then again it is Piers and Rebecca and they’re both eager to learn anything and everything they can. That’s another thing they have in common, the marksman supposes, other than being new to S.T.A.R.S. Piers is the youngest in Alpha at just twenty, Rebecca on Bravo at eighteen. 

Chris shakes his head, deciding to nip this line of thinking at the bud. He doesn’t like it and the marksman doesn’t bother trying to figure out why.

“Alright, I think we can call it a day,” Chris speaks up, stepping over to his trainees. Yes, his trainees. The marksman has taken the liberty of calling them that even if just in his head because Wesker can get pretty bitchy when he’s ready. He has first-hand experience of that.

Piers glances up at him, “Already?” He glances down at his watch before shaking his head. “But we’ve still got like forty minutes.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’ve gotta leave early today, remember?”

“Oh,” the Sniper deflates, Chris able to read his expression and deduce that he had wanted to train some more. He wants to stay, teach him some more, but he needs to be home for when Claire arrives.

Rebecca nods in understanding, “Ok, thank you for taking time out for us again.” She climbs to her feet, soft smile on her lips as she dusts her pants.

“Sure, same time tomorrow, alright?” Chris offers her a smile in return.

“Ok,” she smiles, waving at Chris and Piers in turn. “Bye.”

“You done for today, Rebecca?” Richard speaks up, jogging over to her.

“Yup,” Rebecca nods at him and Chris watches as Richard walks with her back to the building, Forest trailing behind them before the marksman turns to Piers.

“You gonna stay there on the ground?” Chris asks, raising an eyebrow at the Sniper still sitting on the dirt.

“No,” he answers before pushing himself up to his feet, dusting his fatigues. “I think I’m gonna stay out here a little longer.”

“Nah, just go home. Take a break,” Chris grins, patting the Sniper on the shoulder and guiding him off the field and back towards the station where Rebecca, Richard, and Forest have disappeared into. “I promise we’ll work on that technique tomorrow.”

Piers glances at him before he nods, looking a little lighter, “Ok.”

They walk into the locker room, Chris easily locating his and opening it. “My sister is coming down from university today. She’s staying with me for the summer,” Chris explains as he grabs his bag, pausing before he glances over his shoulder at Piers. “Wanna come? Meet her I mean.”

“Huh?” the Sniper blinks at him, pausing mid-motion at opening his own locker.

“If you’re not busy or anything,” the marksman adds, pulling the straps of his bag over one shoulder.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Piers shrugs after a moment of contemplating. “I’m not doing anything. Just give me a minute to hit the showers.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Just shower at my place,” Chris offers, grabbing Piers’ bag and trailing past the Ace, not noticing the crimson blush that surfaces on Piers’ cheeks at his suggestion.

The Sniper fidgets for a moment before trailing after the marksman out of the station and into the parking lot. He jumps into the passenger seat of Chris’ truck, trying to act as normal as possible even though he feels like if his skin is alight with fire.

Chris tosses a small grin his way before starting the truck and pulling out of the parking lot, joining the traffic on the main road. It’s a short drive, the marksman only living a few blocks down from the station. Chris pulls into the driveway, Piers leaning forward to take a look at the small building. It’s two stories, Chris’ apartment on the second floor and a garage big enough to fit two cars on the bottom.

“This is me,” the marksman states, hopping out of his truck and leading the Sniper up the steps to the side of the building to the second floor before fishing for his keys and fitting it into the lock, pushing the door open. Chris steps in, leaving the door open for his guest. 

Piers lingers at the doorway, daring to peek his head in. It’s just as small as it looks on the outside and yet spacious at the same time. The doorway opens into a small hall, the kitchen to the left while the living room lies straight ahead. 

This is Chris’ apartment. 

Piers finally steps in, closing the door behind himself as he steps into the living room. There is only one couch, pillows tossed across it and on the floor. There are soda bottles and cans of beer on the coffee table, crumbs littering the surface. A few articles of clothing are scattered across the back of the couch and the floor. The Sniper can count on one hand how many photographs there are in the room, most of them of a young girl with fiery red hair. 

Chris pops out of what the Ace assumes to be the bedroom, a towel in hand. “You can take the shower first. I’m gonna clean up here,” the marksman says, wincing when he notices how much of a mess his place is actually in. “Excuse the mess.”

“Is this Claire?” Piers offers instead, pointing at one of the photos.

“Yup, that’s my baby sister all right,” Chris nods, the Ace not missing the fond smile that finds its way on the marksman’s features as he glances at the picture.

Piers takes the towel from Chris, thanking him before finding the bathroom easily enough. He lets his bag slip from his shoulder before attempting to close the door, the door refusing to shut all the way as it grinds against the frame.

“Oh, right. The locks jammed or something and the door won’t close,” Chris calls out from the living room. “It’s fine. Not gonna open the door or anything.”

A small frown graces Piers’ face and he tries not to take note at the heat settling in his cheeks of having to shower with the door simply pushed against the frame and Chris right in the other room, but he shakes it off in favor of stripping his shirt before he toes off his boots.

The Sniper glances around, taking in the plain looking bathroom, idly wondering if bathrooms can even be personalized before he unbuttons his fatigues and lets his clothes drop to the floor. He steps out of them and pushes the shower curtain aside, turning on the water before the impulse to glance back over to the door proves too much and he does, seeing it still propped against the door frame. He hears Chris pushing around the couch in the living room and he shrugs, trying to make the bubbling in his stomach stop.

Piers steps under the spray of water, letting it wash the dirt of his body and watching as it disappears down the drain. He runs his hand through his hair, the cold feeling good against his heated scalp. He grabs Chris’ shampoo, idly noticing that it’s pine scented and placing why the marksman always smells like pine. The Sniper scrubs his short hair with it before washing the soap of his body, not wanting to waste too much of Chris’ water. He turns off the water before reaching out and grabbing the towel from where he had left it on the sink, pressing the soft material to his face as the sound of a distant humming grows louder and louder.

Piers pauses, the rev of the engine sounding as if it’s just outside before it cuts off. He towels off before pulling his spare clothes from his bag, putting them on before he pulls the door open. The Ace steps out of the bathroom, his bare feet padding down the hall. 

“Chris?” the Sniper calls out before he notices that the front door is open. So it looks like Claire’s here.

The Ace pauses in the hall, running his fingers through his hair in attempt to get the wet strands at the top of his head to style in their usual flip. When he decides it’s as good as it will ever be with how damp it is, Piers pokes his head out the door, seeing Chris with his arms wrapped around the younger Redfield. She’s much smaller than him, but what ends up stealing the Sniper’s attention is the gorgeous motorcycle parked just behind the girl.

Claire glances up Piers and smiles at him, waving at him. The Ace waves back, deciding now is as good as time as any to get his ass down there. 

“Claire, this is Piers. He’s the one I told you about that joined S.T.A.R.S a few months ago. Piers, this is Claire,” Chris introduces the two as the Sniper makes his way down the stairs to where the siblings are standing.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Claire smiles, her red hair making her cheeks and lips look rosy. She offers the Ace her hand in which he takes.

“Likewise,” the Sniper smiles, shaking her hand in greeting before his hazel eyes land on the bike. “Is she yours?”

“Yup,” Claire beams as if Piers had just asked the perfect question.

“Sweet,” the Ace nods appreciatively. He never imagined the younger Redfield would drive a motorcycle, but now that he sees it, it seems to fit her, like if it’s wrong to even consider Claire driving an SUV or something. “I can imagine she draws a lot of attention at your school.”

“Oh yeah,” Claire nods. “But it kinda goes with my look, don’t you think?” she smiles as she turns to show her back to the Sniper, Piers reading the imprint on the back of her red vest. Let Me Live.

“Huh, you’re right,” the Sniper nods, glancing between the younger Redfield and the motorcycle.

“It’s my brother’s. Well, it’s made to look like his,” Claire explains, turning back around. At Piers’ questioning look, the redhead elaborates. “His Air Force jacket.”

“You were in the Air Force?” is the Ace’s response to Claire’s explanation, hazel turning to the marksman almost forgotten.

“A little while ago. Air Force pilot for six years of my life,” Chris states, stepping around his sister to grab her bike, moving it towards the garage.

“Why’d you leave?” Piers asks, following the marksman as he opens the garage, not noticing the way Claire glances from her brother to him and then back to Chris.

Chris is silent for a moment, Claire’s bike leaning on his side before he speaks, “Wasn’t my thing.”

Piers barely hears Chris’ response, his hazel resting on the muscle car propped up in the marksman’s garage. It’s old, probably from the 1950s or 60s, the blue paint chipping off and making it look worse than what it probably is. 

“It’s a project,” Chris speaks up, light blue eyes following Piers’ gaze to the car. “They were gonna scrap it, but I think it’s salvageable.”

“He’s an aspiring mechanic,” Claire adds in, leaning against the garage wall.

“You race?” Piers asks, turning to the marksman.

“Nah, not really,” Chris shrugs, carefully parking Claire’s bike to the side.

“I’ve told him to just get a bike like I did,” the younger Redfield chimes in. “To quench his need for speed,” she says, bursting into chuckles at the look her brother sends her.

Piers’ eyes return to Claire’s motorcycle. It really is a work of art, powerful yet beautiful.

“You wanna ride?” Claire asks, pushing off the wall and walking up to the Sniper.

“Huh?”

“You’re staring at my bike,” the redhead shrugs. “Wanna ride? I can give you one.”

Chris snorts at that, “Claire, he doesn’t want a ride on your back.”

“What’s wrong with my back?” Claire frowns at her brother, her brows knitting together. 

“You’re a girl. If he wants a ride, I’ll give him one,” Chris offers nonchalantly before turning to Piers. “Right?”

“Can you even ride?” Piers asks the marksman, earning a triumphant snort from Claire in turn. Chris’ jaw drops comically, the Ace raising up his hands in mock defense before Chris is grabbing Claire’s motorcycle again and leading it out of the garage.

“Who do you think taught her in the first place?” Chris asks the Sniper before he throws a leg over the bike, patting the space on the seat behind him. “Come on, Nivans.”

Piers glances back at Claire, the mirth in her blue eyes reassuring the Ace that he’s not climbing onto the back of his death. The Sniper walks over to the motorcycle, lifting his leg over the seat and getting on, making sure there are a few inches between him and the marksman. It’s only when the Piers is on the bike that he realizes how close he is to Chris and any further distance will land him on the back wheel.

“Hold on,” Chris instructs, the Ace glancing around for somewhere to grab before one of the marksman’s hands find his wrist, pulling it forward and around his waist. “To me,” Chris adds. “Hold on to me or you’ll fall off.”

“Oh, ok,” Piers breathes, out, feeling his cheeks heat up as he wraps his other arm around Chris’ waist, still not daring to rest them against the marksman’s stomach. 

“We’ll be back,” Chris tells his sister, getting a nod from her before she waves them off. 

All of the Sniper’s careful gripping goes out the window the moment Chris cranks up the motorcycle and takes off, the Ace tightening his hold on the marksman in an attempt to not be sent sprawling on the concrete, nose pressed to his back. The wind whips past them, Piers’ heart threatening to fly away as well as it beats hard in his chest.

Chris chuckles at Piers’ response, knowing sooner or later the Ace would have to hold on to him in earnest if he wanted to stay on the seat, but now the Sniper is just squeezing the air out of his lungs, whole body pressed up against Chris’ back.

At the feel of Piers’ face pressed into his shirt, the marksman becomes highly aware of how he definitely had not taken a shower after spending most of the day on the training field and probably smells like dirt and sweat. At the same time, he picks up on the familiar scent of pine, also aware that Piers had showered and that he must have used his shampoo. Hell, why does the image of Piers in his bathroom, his shower, completely naked and using his shampoo make his stomach flip despite how hard the Sniper’s arms are wrapped around his waist? The flips in his stomach only get worse as Piers shifts behind him, trying to get comfortable and pressing even closer, chest down to his crotch flush against Chris.

“Am I going too fast?” Chris calls out over the roar of the engine, opting to slow down before the Sniper shakes his head.

“No, faster!” Piers shouts back, lifting his head to look over Chris’ shoulder, a chuckle escaping his lips into the marksman’s ear, too absorbed in the moment to notice the shiver running down Chris’ spine in response.

It had been scary at first the Ace has to admit to himself, never having been on a motorcycle before, but after the initial burst of speed it’s enthralling. It makes his heart beat faster, the wind whipping his face as the world flies by in a blur. More than that, Chris is warm, his natural scent not having been washed from his body and clothes yet as the Sniper lets himself hold on tight, as close as he can get more out of a desire to not fall off by accident than anything else. It’s comforting in a way, making Piers feel safe. 

He trusts Chris. It’s just him and the marksman, rushing by and Piers can’t even begin to describe the feeling. He knows that he likes it. He knows that he never wants to let it go, subconsciously pressing up into the marksman as he imprints this moment into his memory, not wanting to forget a single detail of it. Not the way the buildings zoom by, or the roar of the engine drowning out his surroundings. Not the vibrations of the powerful bike under him or the feeling of the warm body in front of him, the scent of earth and pine mixing in the wind as it flies past him.

Piers doesn’t want to forget any of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Resident Evil no belong to me.
> 
> Author’s Note: I don’t know much about motorcycles or muscle cars and the research I did didn’t help much, but I hope it’s not too bad. I tried! Chris with his car and Claire with her bike. They’re siblings all right. And as mentioned before, here is Rebecca with an extra helping of Claire.
> 
> Please let me know how I’m doing so far! Also, the next chapter is going to be set in the present (2012).


	8. Chapter 07 - Present (2012)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present (2012)

The room is spinning. Lack of sleep. Lack of a proper meal. Chris doesn’t know which one has him lying flat on his back at the edge of his bed, feet firmly planted on the floor acting as the only anchor he has to the real world.

Piers had gone into a panic, the white coats not letting anyone else see him for the rest of the day. Something about stabilizing him and his mental condition. Chris doesn’t really understand the terminology they used, but he does understand when he’s a bother. Sheva had urged him to go home, telling him to get some rest and a proper meal. The captain had been reluctant, the only thing making him get in his truck and leave having been Jill’s phone call.

Chris had neglected to tell her the big news so she had been understandably concerned when he didn’t come home. She knew the news by now, however, the biggest missing person case in Raccoon City has finally gotten a break after all.

The sound of the bed springs giving way alert Chris of his company. It had been so quiet that Chris had almost forgotten she had even been there. Jill stays silent, sitting there for a few moments before she lays down beside him, shoulder to shoulder yet not touching.

Chris lets his head fall to the side, realizing that the blonde woman is watching him intently, her deep blue eyes tracing over the lines of his face.

“It’s true then?” she finally breaks the quiet atmosphere, but her voice is so low that it’s as if she still wants to preserve some kind of silence.

“Not a day,” Chris confirms, his gaze returning to the ceiling of his bedroom. “He thinks it’s only been a day, well, not so much anymore. Not after yesterday. I think he finally understands that it’s been much more than that...much, much more,” he adds.

“I see,” Jill says, gaze unwavering from the older man. “No answers yet? No explanation of how or why?” Chris shakes his head, regretting it when it makes the room spin all over again. “Sounds like a mess,” she continues before she voices another concern of hers. “So he still thinks you and him are an item?”

“Yeah, I think so,” the captain heaves. Piers had kept asking for his boyfriend. For Chris. The older man isn’t sure how to feel about it. “But that’s not important right now. He’s got bigger things to worry about.”

“Like the fourteen years he seemingly skipped over?” Jill supplies, rolling onto her side and propping her head up on her palm to be able to look down on the older man’s face, reading every one of his expressions.

Chris nods absentmindedly and the blonde agent already knows the captain’s head is running with millions of thoughts again. Thoughts about Piers, she’s sure.

Jill lifts her hand, fingers brushing his shoulder up to his neck, “I’m here for you, ok?”

Chris glances at her, “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Jill counters, brows furrowing as she holds the captain’ gaze.

“I’m fine, really. He’s the one who has it hard,” Chris dismisses again.

Jill purses her lips, about to protest before Chris’ phone goes off. The captain turns away from her to reach into his pocket and pull it out. He glances at the caller’s name, sitting up abruptly enough to startle Jill as he answers it.

“Sheva? Is everything ok? How is he?” A few tense moments pass before Chris is slouching forward, the call no need for alarm.

Jill sits up, studying Chris. He looks worn, his hair a disheveled mess not making the dark circles under his eyes look any better. She would have thought that finally finding Piers would have filled Chris with joy, the thought always simpering bitterly in her mind, but seeing him like this, defeated over the boy, has a small flame of hope erupt in her chest. It’s wrong to think like this. She knows. She recognizes these feelings. Ugly feelings that she tries to get rid of. Ugly feelings she tries not to hold against Chris or Piers.

“I’m on my way,” Chris mutters into the phone before he’s hanging up.

“Piers?” Jill asks although she already knows the answer.

“Yeah, he refuses to speak to anyone who isn’t me,” the captain answers, glancing over to the drawer where he had tossed his wallet and keys.

Of course. “Don’t tell me you’re actually going back,” the blonde agent sighs, resting her elbows on her knees. Chris glances at her like if he doesn’t know of any other option, prompting Jill to try to explain herself better. “You just came from there. You haven’t even slept yet.”

“He needs me, Jill,” the captain says as if it’s enough of an explanation.

“You don’t owe him anything,” Jill quips before she can catch herself. Chris’ brown eyes find hers, the woman trying to find her words again. “What happened isn’t your fault. You shouldn’t feel like you owe him anything.”

Chris looks at her for what feels like a long moment before he looks away without uttering another word at her. Jill bites her tongue, watching as Chris pushes himself off the bed and sluggishly make his way across the room.

Fourteen years of battling with Piers’ ghost and now the kid is back in the flesh. It’s like none of the small battles she had won hold any meaning anymore, the fact driven home as Chris grabs his wallet and keys and walks out of the bedroom, the sound of the front door shutting not coming too long after.

0o0

“Chris,” Piers utters, but it sounds as if he’s testing it on his tongue, as if he’s trying to associate the name with the older, bigger man in front of him than the youthful one he no doubt wishes to have.

“Piers,” Chris returns, but it sounds like if he’s testing it on his tongue, as if he’s trying to associate the name with the same lithe youth whom he’d begun to think he’d never see again.

The older man shifts from one leg to the next at the doorway to the hospital room before he decides to walk in. Piers did ask for him, after all, “You wanted to see me?”

“Uh yeah, it’s just you’re the only one I know around here,” Piers admits, sitting up straighter in the chair he has decided to occupy by the window.

Chris nods, taking a seat in a chair on the wall opposite of him, “I understand. Must be stressful to realize a decade has passed right under your nose, huh?”

Piers nods, “Still trying to wrap my head around it. Feels like a really long dream, but I know I’m not dreaming. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to be able to,” Chris returns easily, knowing he himself has no words to explain either, if he even had an idea to begin with.

“So, um, you’re thirty-five now, you said?” Piers starts, a poor attempt at a change of conversation, but Chris won’t argue. He doubts he would have been able to pull off anything better.

“Thirty-nine,” the older man corrects, resting his hands on the armrests of the chair as he catches himself studying the way the light falls on Piers’ features.

“Oh, wow, borderline forty,” Piers muses before he can catch himself. “Er, I mean -”

Chris lets small smile grace his lips, “It’s fine. I’d rather not think about it until I have no choice, but it’s something I can’t change. Won’t stop Claire from teasing me, though.”

At the mention of the younger Redfield, the Sniper turns to face the captain properly, “How is she? Are you talking to her again?” Piers asks before he shakes his head. “What am I saying? Of course you are.”

“Yeah, she’s doing great, actually,” leaning back in his seat, Piers’ question reminds Chris of just what time period the Ace is still stuck in. It also gives him a pretty good idea of the last things the Sniper remembers before leaping through time or whatever he did. “She went back to college and finished. Got a good job at some human rights organization.”

Chris answer is followed by another question from Piers, “And S.T.A.R.S?”

It’s surprisingly easier to talk to Piers than Chris had originally thought would be. It’s familiar despite the years apart. They just flow, fitted together like a puzzle piece Chris has been missing.

“Still in place. I’m actually the captain now.”

“What?” Piers’ face drops, brows furrowing in confusion. “W-what about Captain Wesker?”

“He resigned,” the captain grits out, just the mention of that man’s name enough to put him in a sour mood.

“Why?”

“It’s a long story,” Chris answers before he suddenly sits up, leaning forward to the Ace. “He was the last one with you that night. Piers, what happened?”

Piers purses his lips, leaning back against his seat, “What about the other members? They still there?”

The Sniper is outright refusing to answer his question, the older man notes, urging to press him for answers, but he decides to play along. For now. The last thing he wants is to push Piers even though Lord knows a part of him just wants the Sniper to spill everything he’s keeping to himself, but he knows Piers (and he assumes he hasn’t changed because he literally hasn’t) and he knows that won’t work with him, especially not when the younger man doesn’t want to talk.

“Jill’s a special agent now. Barry pitches in as an advisor. So does Rebecca whenever she’s not too busy. Joseph moved away and I lost contact with him,” Chris pauses his mental list of the members Piers had known when he notices how his hazel eyes seem unfocused. “Piers?”

“Hm?” the Sniper blinks, gaze focusing on the older man again. “Yeah, I’m just trying to sort it all out in my head, y’know?”

“You’re doing a good job at it,” the captain admits, resting his elbows on his legs as he leans forward. “I don’t know what I would have done in your position. Lost my mind, maybe.”

“I don’t know what I would have done in yours,” the Sniper mumbles in return, but at Chris’ questioning look, he shakes his head. “Forget it. It’s nothing.”

Chris wants to ask him to elaborate, but again he keeps himself in control. Despite the confusion and millions of question that surrounds Piers’ appearance, there is one thing that Chris is grateful for: Piers is back. He’s here. Alive and well. The implications of how and why weigh heavily on his mind, but in this moment, with Piers sitting across from him and talking like if nothing has changed, Chris can’t bring himself to feel anything but content relief.

Chris takes in a deep breath, “You’re doing much better, I’m glad.”

Piers looks like he wants to refuse the older man’ statement, “I wouldn’t say much better. I haven’t left this building. I don’t know what’s out there, y’know?”

Chris snorts, “What are you expecting? Hover cars?”

Piers’ expectant expression falls when he realizes Chris had just been teasing him. “I don’t know,” he shrugs, looking a little sheepish. “A lot can happen in fourteen years.”

“Raccoon hasn’t changed much, trust me,” the captain explains. “But there is a lot of new neat technology.”

“I’m kinda anxious to learn about it all,” Piers admits before he quiets down, fingers picking at the hem of his shirt.

“You don’t look anxious,” Chris states matter-of-factly.

Piers catches Chris’ concerned look and speaks up, “Can I ask you something?”

Chris swallows, hard, “Yeah, shoot.”

“My parents. How are they?”

Piers must have been working himself up to this question, Chris realizes, especially since the last time the Ace had visited his parents it hadn’t gone pleasant. At all. The captain finds himself wishing the Ace had never asked. He doesn’t want to be the one to deliver the news, but there’s no one else. There’s no one else and that thought makes Chris realize just how alone Piers must feel. The Sniper had admitted it himself, saying Chris is the only person he knows and he’s about to find out just how alone he really is.

Chris’ long silence must have worried the Sniper since he sits up again, “Captain?”

The older man’s head snaps up at the title, “What?”

“My parents?” the younger man tries again.

“No, I mean yes, but why did you call me captain?”

“Cause you’re the captain of S.T.A.R.S.”

The confusion must be showing on his face, Chris decides, “Yeah, but that has nothing to do with this.”

Piers shrugs, “It suits you. If you’re the captain, then you’re the captain.” Chris wants to argue but the Ace must have seen it on his features since he quickly speaks up again, cutting the older man off. “My parents.”

“Right,” Chris mutters, fingers intertwining as he stares at them for a moment before deciding the silence isn’t going to make things better. “They’re...gone. I’m sorry Piers, but they’ve passed away.”

Chris can see the hurt as plain as day cross the Sniper’s features, hazel eyes falling away from his gaze to land on his hands, fingers twisting into the cushion of the chair.

“When?” Piers breathes out and the older man would do anything to switch to a lighter topic. Anything that wouldn't make Piers sound so defeated, sad.

Chris bites on his bottom lip, wracking his brain for the answer, “Five...six years ago? In an accident.”

The sharp intake of breath has the captain’s gaze snap up to Piers’ face, the color draining of his youthful countenance.

“Piers, listen,” Chris requests, reaching out and placing a hand on the Sniper’s shaking fist. “They never stopped searching for you.” Hazel seek out his brown and the captain keeps his gaze. “I know the last time you spoke to them they wanted nothing to do with you. I know you must be feeling guilty for not trying harder, for running away the way you did, but believe me when I say you never stopped being their son.”

What must Piers be thinking to hear that not only has he been missing for more than a decade, but that his parents are also dead? Gone before they could even discover what happened to their only son. Gone before Piers could fix things with them. Gone before they could be reunited as a family again.

Piers nods slowly, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth as he tries to keep himself in control.

“Piers, it’s ok to cry,” Chris mutters gently, the shaking hand in his hold not letting up as the younger man struggles to keep himself in control.

“No, I just need a moment,” escape Piers’ lips, quiet and barely audible despite the silence settling in the room.

It’s Chris turn to nod slowly, “Need some space?”

At Piers’ nod, the captain stands up from his seat, fingers tightening around the Ace’s for a moment before he’s letting go and giving Piers some privacy. As he closes the door to the room, he can hear the quiet sob that escapes Piers, the sound echoing off the walls and reaching his ears, his heart going out to that lonely, confused boy finding himself in a different, bigger world than he could have ever imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Resident Evil and its characters are not mine.
> 
> Author’s Note: So here is Chapter 7, Chris and Piers trying to catch up and make sense of what’s happening. Piers has really missed a lot. Everything will be revealed in time so stick with me and let me know how I’m doing. Thank you for reading!
> 
> The next chapter is set in the past (1998).


	9. Chapter 08 - Past (1998)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Past (1998)

They’re just sitting there innocently enough, amidst the stack of papers forever ignored by the occupant of the desk beside his.

Piers glances around the office and noting that no one is paying him any mind, he springs up from his seat and plops down in Chris’. He’s that much closer to his target: Chris’ cigarettes.

Piers isn’t a smoker. Far from it. He took the whole “say no to drugs” thing pretty seriously. Chris, on the other hand, is almost always seen with a cigarette between his lips, especially when he’s stressed, which also not so coincidentally happens to be on the days he’s swarmed with paperwork.

The Ace is surprised the marksman even left the pack on his desk, nimble fingers grabbing the box and lifting them for further inspection. He’s never smoked before, curiosity peaked as he opens the pack and pulls one cancer stick out, placing it between his plump lips. One won’t hurt, right? The Sniper is just experimenting.

Piers glances around the surface of Chris’ desk, searching for the marksman’s lighter. That’s also something Chris always has with him, but maybe he had left them behind as well. He shoves some papers aside, reports scattering across the surface, but the mess is not any different from what the marksman already had.

“Looking for this?” a masculine voice says from in front of the desk, Piers glancing up to meet with blue watching his every move. Chris is standing there, brows raised in amusement only accentuating the smirk resting on those thin lips. The marksman holds up the lighter, waving it for the Ace to see. “I didn’t know you were a smoker, Piers.”

“I’m not,” the Sniper shrugs, leaning back in Chris’ chair as if he owned it. “But I like to try new things.”

That answer seems to be good enough for Chris since he moves around the desk and sits on top of it, flicking his lighter, the tiny flame coming to life before he leans forward, igniting the end of the cigarette the Ace has between his lips.

Piers’ gaze moves up from the lighter to Chris’ face, the marksman watching him carefully as the Sniper inhales his first cigarette. Piers expected it to be hot, maybe even burn a little, but his mouth goes dry and he chokes on the nicotine invading his oral cavity. He barely has time to pull the cigarette from his mouth before he’s hacking up a lung, Chris shifting from the corner of his eye and barely suppressing a snort at the Sniper’s reaction. So much for trying new things.

The marksman’s eyes glint with amusement, throwing his head back and laughing when Piers manages to finally recover enough to meet his eyes, “Never smoked before?”

The Sniper swallows, trying to soothe his itching throat, watery eyes taking in Chris’ knowing look and shit eating grin, simply shaking his head rather than verbally admitting it.

“Cute,” Chris snorts out between his laughing fit before he reaches forward and removes the cigarette from between the Ace’s lips, blue eyes lingering on that mouth before he brings the cancer stick up to his own lips. “This is how it’s done.”

It’s Piers turn to stare as Chris places the cigarette to his lips and takes a slow inhale, his eyes closing as he savors the taste before he lets the smoke escape from between his parted lips.

“You got that?” the marksman asks, leaning on the hand he has splayed on his desk, cocking his head to the side.

“Yeah,” Piers nods, reaching for the cigarette only for Chris to lift it out of his reach and put it back between his lips.

“No you didn’t,” Chris grins, taking a few more drags from the cancer stick before swatting the Ace’s hand out of the way. He leans forward and offers Piers the cigarette.

Hazel meet blue and hold them there before the Sniper is leaning forward, letting Chris place the cigarette between his parted lips. The marksman’s eyes linger on Piers’ lips before they meet the Ace’s eyes, the younger man feeling his face grow hot at having Chris sitting right in front of him holding a cigarette to his lips. Piers can smell the faint scent of pine, his brain kicking into gear and reminding him that Chris uses pine scented shampoo. He barely takes a drag before the situation gets to be too much for the Sniper and he pulls away, glancing around the office to see if anyone is watching.

Thankfully, Brad is hovering by Joseph’s desk, his back towards them and his position blocking Joseph from being able to see them. Barry is on a phone call in the hall and Piers isn’t sure where Jill is, but she’s not in the room and that’s good enough for the Ace. Not that there is anything to see. Nothing is happening. Nothing at all.

Chris cocks a grin at him before placing the cigarette between his own lips again, taking a huff before a hand is suddenly clamping around that same wrist and yanking it from his mouth, the cancer stick snatched from his fingers and into Captain Wesker’s.

Piers barely has a moment to blink before Wesker’s stony face is swooping down to meet Chris’ own stunned one, light blue eyes wide open as he surely thinks he’s in trouble. Again. For a moment there it looked like the captain of S.T.A.R.S will go as far as head-butting the marksman, Piers’ brain screeching to a halt when Wesker’s lips find Chris’ in a searing yet quick kiss.

“What did I say about smoking in the office?” is all Wesker says after he detaches himself from Chris’ face, spinning on his heel and continuing on his way, but not before turning his gaze towards the Sniper. The furrow of his brows and tight jaw is all the Ace needs to know that Wesker is in fact glaring at him.

Piers registers his jaw falling slack, staring at Captain Wesker’s retreating back. Chris’ own face mirrors the shock he must be feeling, shifting uncomfortably on his desk and that’s when the Sniper realizes he needs to move.

“Uh, um,” Piers wracks his brain for something to say as he pushes himself up from Chris’ chair. “You should have your desk back.”

The Sniper steps around the desk, not even heading back to his own as he high tails it out of the office, pretending not to hear Chris’ calls for him to wait as he rounds into the hall, side stepping Barry to only end up walking into Jill.

“Whoa!” the brunette gasps as she stumbles backwards, hands out in front of her.

“Oh, sorry, Jill,” Piers apologizes, taking a step back.

“It’s fine,” Jill dismisses, straightening her beret before she shifts most of her weight onto one leg. “What has you in such a hurry?”

The Sniper quickly shakes his head, trying not to let the questions bring up the image of Captain Wesker lip locking with Chris, “Nothing.”

As if summoning the man, Chris steps out into the hall, halting in his tracks when he notices both Barry and Jill. Barry glances at the marksman, raising an eyebrow in question. Chris shakes his head, ducking back into the office. Barry shrugs, glancing between Jill and Piers before focusing on his conversation again.

Jill’s gaze finds Piers’, “Did he do something?”

“No,” the Sniper answers, but the raised brow Jill gives him tells him she’s not buying it. “Really, nothing.”

Chris hasn’t done anything, despite how hard Jill might find that hard to believe. The marksman is S.T.A.R.S resident troublemaker after all. No, who really knocked him off his feet had been Captain Wesker himself.

“Chris can be pretty hard-headed and dense when he wants to be, but he’s got good intentions,” the brunette states before adding. “Most of the time.” That earns a small chuckle from the Sniper, Jill taking it as her cue to ask her next question. “Wanna have lunch? I was about to head out.”

“Uh, sure,” Piers acquiesces although he hadn’t seen it coming at all. She almost always has lunch with Chris, maybe Barry and Rebecca since the younger female has joined the team, but not him, but then again, Jill is also friendly with the unit. He supposes the brunette just hasn’t gotten a chance yet.

They end up going to a deli in walking distance, barely five minutes away with what Jill claims to have the best sandwiches. Piers is inclined to believe her when he takes a bite of his, feeling at ease with how easy it is to slip into small talk with Jill.

“So I heard you left with Chris the other day,” Jill brings up, taking a sip from her drink.

“Yeah, his sister is home for the summer,” Piers confirms, picking up a lettuce that had fallen out of his sandwich and shoving it back in between the bread.

“You met Claire?” the brunette asks and the Sniper catches the surprise in her voice.

“Yeah.”

“How did you do that?” Jill inquires, placing down her half-eaten sandwich to study the Ace.

“Do what?” Piers furrows his brows, wondering what has Jill so bewildered.

“Only people close to him get introduced to his baby sister,” the brunette explains, sitting back in her seat. “Don’t get me wrong, everyone knows about her. She’s the only family he’s got, but that’s also why he’s so protective of her. He doesn’t just let anyone get close to her.”

Piers blinks at Jill, “Really?” He’s close to Chris? That would mean Chris considers them close friends, then?

Jill nods, “You’ve been with us...what? Three, four months now? It took me at least six to meet her and even then it had been during the holidays.”

“Er, well maybe that’s it. She’s studying, isn’t she?” the Sniper inputs, earning a light hearted shrug from Jill.

“That’s true,” she agrees, picking up her sandwich again but not immediately taking a bite from it. “He’s an outgoing guy, but he doesn’t tend to get too close to people.”

“You’re close to him,” Piers states, going off what Jill had told him. She’s met Claire and she and Chris always hang out. They work well together and all that, but the way the brunette glances down at her plate begs to differ. “Right?” the Sniper adds, frowning when Jill simply shrugs.

Piers purses his lips, trying to understand Jill’s solemn face before a thought pops into his head. Chris had told him that she had been the first one to warm up to him when he first joined, not including Barry who had known him since before S.T.A.R.S. They work in sync, get along to the point where they normally get lunch and who knows what else.

“Not close enough, huh?” Piers finds himself asking despite the way his stomach sinks. He must be hungry, he reasons since there is a perfectly good half-eaten sandwich in front of him, but the way Jill glances up at him tells him he should clarify himself. “To Chris. You’re friends, but that’s not close enough for you, is it?”

Jill glances away, Piers not missing the way her cheeks grow red, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I saw the way you were looking at him that time at the bar,” Piers admits. “And pretty much any other time you don’t think he or anyone else is watching.” The brunette meets his eyes again, the Sniper offering her a friendly smile. “I’ve got sharp eyes.”

That earns him a small smile before she finally speaks again, “It feels like I’m in a friend zone or something. He just doesn’t...”

Piers swallows, the sinking feeling in his stomach getting harder and harder to ignore, “You should go for it.” Jill meets the Sniper’s gaze as he continues. “He can be pretty dense, right? I think you might...have to really go for it. Tell him.”

It’s Jill’s turn to purse her lips, blue still meeting hazel before she nods. “Yeah, yeah I think you’re right.” She finally makes to take a bite from her sandwich before she pauses, “Thanks.”

Piers simply nods although he doesn’t feel like he did anything. Chris isn’t the subtle type and in turn, the marksman doesn’t get small hints dropped here and there. Even Piers had picked up on that much in the few months he’s known Chris. The Sniper idly wonders if he should tell Jill what he had witnessed between Captain Wesker and Chris, but decides to just leave it be. It’s none of his business anyway. Just like if Jill does make a move and what Chris’ response will be are none of his business either.

The Sniper shakes his head, biting into his sandwich and willing the thoughts to drift away.

0o0

Piers spends the rest of the day avoiding Chris and Wesker. It’s hard to look either of them in the face after what happened. Granted, the captain had just swooped in and kissed the marksman, but it doesn’t make it any less awkward. The Sniper just doesn’t know what to say or what face he’d make.

He’s almost home free, just a few more steps and he can hop in the car and get the hell out of here. All of Piers’ efforts go out the window when the Ace steps outside only to see Chris leaning against the front of the building, his blue eyes catching hazel. The marksman pulls yet another cigarette out from between his lips before he calls out to Piers, jogging up to him.

“Listen, you don’t know what you saw back there,” Chris starts the moment he’s in front of the younger man, keeping his voice low and the conversation between them.

“You’re right, I don’t and I also know it’s not my business,” the Sniper shrugs before he tries to offer the marksman a disarming smile. “Really Chris, it’s fine. You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

Chris purses his lips, about to say something before the honk of a car reaches their ears, both glancing over to see a blonde man in a sedan.

“I’ve gotta go,” Piers tells Chris, recognizing the man.

“That your ride?” the marksman inquires. The guy looks nothing like Piers, so Chris can rule out them being brothers, unless one of them is adopted.

“Yeah,” the Ace nods before he’s taking the steps down towards the car.

Chris hops down the steps beside Piers. “I’ll take him!” Chris calls over Piers’ head, waving for the guy to get going, but the guy doesn’t drive off, instead raising an eyebrow in question.

“Chris,” Piers frowns, hazel meeting a determined set of blue.

“Just hear me out,” Chris isn’t sure why it’s so important to talk to the Sniper about this, but it is.

The Sniper meets his gaze for a moment, running it over in his head before he sighs. “Fine,” Piers acquiesces, glancing over his shoulder and waving at the guy in the car. “He’ll take me home. Thanks Leon.”

Only then does Piers’ ride wave back before driving away.

“Seriously, who is that guy?” the marksman asks, gesturing for Piers to follow him towards the parking lot where his truck is parked.

“Leon, my roommate,” Piers supplies, sliding into the passenger seat as Chris gets into the driver’s, turning the key in the ignition.

Chris hums in response, silence reigning in the vehicle as they pull out onto the street. They sit in silence, Piers glancing out the window and wondering just when is the marksman going to get on with it since he had been the one to insist in the first place, unaware of Chris’ internal debate.

The marksman isn’t sure why the moment Wesker had kissed him and Piers had left his chest had felt so tight. He had wanted to fix things. Explain himself, though why he has the need to clear things up with Piers so badly is beyond him, but, with the Sniper sitting in the truck beside him, the words are having a hard time forming. He doesn’t even know where to start.

“Wesker and I…,” Chris trails off before mentally scolding himself, deciding that since he had been the one that insisted on explaining, he should just do it. “Wesker and I, we had a thing.” That finally prompts Piers to turn away from the window and look at him, brows raised in question at him. “I know, I know. He’s my captain and we shouldn’t have, but it just happened. I wouldn’t even really call it a relationship. It was just us, I guess,” Chris tries to explain, shaking his head at the shit job he’s doing. “Anyway, the point is that it’s over between us. I have no idea why he kissed me like that, in the office of all places since we kept things a secret.”

Piers nods slowly, silence making itself known again between them. Chris feels as if the Ace’s eyes are boring into him, studying every miniscule twitch of being held under that scrutinizing gaze. He wants Piers to talk. Wants him to say something. Anything.

Chris clears his throat, fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are turning white. “I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. He’s our captain, so… y’know,” he trails off lamely, fighting the urge to shift in his seat yet again.

Piers sighs, the only clue the marksman gets that he’s still there, listening. “Chris, it’s alright. I wasn’t going to say anything if that’s what you’re getting at,” the Sniper finally speaks.

“It’s not,” Chris quickly responds before he can catch himself. “I mean, I just didn’t know what you were thinking. I thought...I thought I shouldn’t leave you hanging like that and come clean. Y’know?”

“What I think shouldn’t matter,” Piers states, earning a glance from Chris.

“It does to me,” the marksman counters. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Jill’s words return to Piers then, about how Chris must regard him as a close friend if he had introduced him to Claire. About he doesn’t tend to get too close to people. Claire is Chris’ only family and the few people he does let into his life must mean a lot to the marksman, the Sniper reasons and if Chris let him in, then that must be why he’s so adamant to make sure he and the Sniper are ok.

They are, Piers realizes. They don’t have any reason not to be. Whatever Chris and Wesker had...that has nothing to with him. It has nothing to do with him and Piers is hell bent on standing by that belief.

“We are,” Piers finds himself saying as he shifts so that he’s mostly facing Chris. “We’re friends and we’re good, alright? Your secret is safe with me.”

A small smile crosses the marksman’s features, his tense body relaxing significantly enough for the Sniper to catch on to it by simply looking at him, “Yeah, I know. Thanks.” He runs a hand through his dark hair, the smile spreading into a grin. “Can I tell you something else?”

“Sure,” Piers shrugs, feeling himself also relax now that they got that out of the way. It still nags at him, but he pushes it aside, standing by his belief. They’re friends and that part of Chris’ life has nothing to do with him.

“Wesker stopped calling me by my first name after we broke up,” Chris admits, sparing a quick glance at him, amusement in his eyes. “There, you know the answer to the mystery plaguing the unit.”

Piers chuckles, “Are you sure it’s not because you’re a better shooter than him?”

“No,” Chris shakes his head, a grin on his face.

“Or because you kicked his ass during combat training so bad he cried?”

“What?” Chris gapes, this time fighting to keep his eyes on the road and not Piers. “No. Who the hell said that?”

Piers scoffs, the smile also present on his face, “If you think that’s bad, you don’t want to hear Richard’s theory.”

0o0

The thing about Claire Redfield is that when she has a craving for something, there is nothing or no one to deny her, not even the fact that her brother does not have any in his apartment. Claire simply hops on her bike and pulls up to the nearest station, the fluorescent lights bright as she walks in through the door. On this particular night, what has Claire scanning the aisles are gummy worms, her clear blue eyes lighting up when she finally finds them. The redhead grabs a bag, pausing before picking up another, just in case.

Claire makes her way to the front, the older man behind the register red in the face as he chases a young man out, waving his hands in the air, “Get out of here, ya damned kid!”

“Alright, alright,” the young man acquiesces, but there is a mocking tone in his voice as he lifts his hands in front of him, backing out the store.

“Damn thief thinks he can come in here and steal from me,” the old man mutters to himself before Claire walks up to the counter. “G’night, I apologize ‘bout that,” he says as he rings her gummy worms up.

The redhead shakes her head, “It’s fine.” She asks for a bag, needing something to carry the snacks in she walks out into the night, pausing by the door when she notices the young man the cashier had chased out is still lingering around, but more than that, his eyes are trained on her motorcycle.

Claire purses her lips, squaring her shoulders as she walks up behind him, “Planning on stealing my bike instead?”

The young man’s head whips around, blonde bangs falling across his green eyes. He glances between Claire and the motorcycle before cocking his head to the side, a grin to match, “This sweet ride is yours?”

“Sure is,” the younger Redfield confirms as she steps around him and grabs her bike, sliding her leg over it. “And you can’t have it.”

The guys grin grows wider, interest sparked in his eyes, “Heard that back there, didn’t ya?”

“I did,” is all Claire answers with before she’s starting her bike, the young man taking an appreciative look at her bike before letting his eyes settle on her.

“Leaving already?” he asks, slipping his hands in his pocket and puffing his chest out and Claire wonders if he’s even aware of how ridiculous he appears to her.

“I am,” the redhead states before she pulls away from the gas station, not sparing the guy another glance.

“I’m Steve by the way!” the young man calls out after her, taking a few steps after her before thinking better of it.

“I didn’t ask!” Claire yells, eyes steadily trained in front of her as she pulls out into the road, simply offering him a quick wave before tail lights are all he sees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Resident Evil and its characters do not belong to me.
> 
> Author’s Note: And so this is the end of chapter 8. Yes, Wesker is Chris’ ex-boyfriend. I couldn’t resist it, but it’s an important plot point in the story, so yay! And yes, Jill’s also got the hots for Chris, lol. Also, Steve makes an appearance! I’m hoping I can write him properly and keep him in character. 
> 
> Also, today is Christmas so in the spirits of the holidays I’m not posting just one chapter, but two! Hope you enjoy them. Merry Christmas and/or Happy Holidays ^_^


	10. Chapter 09 - Present (2012)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present (2012)

“You can’t be serious,” Jill practically snarls, arms crossed over her ample chest, blue eyes watching as Chris moves his exercise equipment to one side of the spare bedroom before ducking into the closet to pull out covers for the guest bed.

“He has nowhere else to go,” Chris answers her, tossing the sheets on the bed before ducking back into the closet in search of pillow covers.

The older man moves around her, Jill unwilling to budge even though she’s standing in the middle of the room. She doesn’t seem to be bothering him regardless and Jill isn’t sure if that tiny detail bothers her or not.

“And when exactly were you planning on telling me this? When he walks in through the door?” the blonde woman asks before Chris’ hustling around the apartment like a kid who has to clean his room in order to be able to have a sleepover at his friend’s house clicks. “Oh my god...he is walking in through that door any minute now, isn’t he?”

Chris throws a sheepish look over his shoulder at Jill, making sure the sheets are looking neat before he turns to face her. “He can’t stay at the hospital much longer, especially since the doctors can’t find anything wrong with him. Sheva and Josh offered to take him, but I don’t want them to lock him away somewhere or something.”

“How noble,” the blonde agent grumbles under her breath.

“He shouldn’t be on his own yet,” Chris argues, walking out of the room and forcing Jill to follow him out if she wants to continue this argument. “He’s skipped out on fourteen years. I think it’s best if we don’t just shove him out into the world on his own just yet.”

“We?” Jill raises an eyebrow, her arms refusing to uncross themselves as she trails after the S.T.A.R.S captain.

“Sheva and Josh agree that I’m the best candidate.”

“And what about me?” Jill frowns, prompting Chris to look up from the couch he’s currently trying to get in order. “Sheva and Josh can say whatever they want, but didn’t it occur to you to talk to me about this too?”

“Of course it did,” Chris says, dropping the pillow to step over to her, large hands grabbing her by the arms. “I meant to, I really did, but I never got the chance. And I thought you’d understand and be ok with it.”

Staring into those big brown eyes the blonde woman has to fight to keep her stance, rigid even as he starts to rub her arms in an attempt to soothe her. The apologetic look on his face is plain as day, Jill huffing under her breathe as she finally uncrosses her arms and instead places them on her hips.

“I am,” she eventually settles on, not that there is much choice to begin with. This is obviously happening whether Jill had agreed to it or not. It just annoys her that the older man hadn’t run it through her, much less mentioned it before the actual day Piers is coming to stay, but of course the Captain’s head had been filled with the Sniper. “Chris, I get that you want to help him, but to have him move in here? Why should you - no, why should we - have to bare all the responsibility?”

“Because we are all he has,” the older man answers. “He’s one of us and has been since the moment he joined S.T.A.R.S.”

Of course Chris will go and say that. It only makes any objection from her part sound like negativity from a cold, heartless bitch.

“Fine,” the blonde agent relents, the small smile gracing Chris’ features a pleasant thing to see, but it falls off his face at Jill’s next question. “By we, I take it you’re referring to you and me, but does he even know there’s an us?” Chris releases her, brown eyes moving away from hers and that’s all the woman needs. “I knew it. You couldn’t tell me that he’s staying here. I highly doubted that you would have been able to tell him that you’ve moved on with someone else.”

As much as moved on even applies to the older man who has relentlessly searched for the young Sniper for the past fourteen years. The words make Chris wince, the action stirring something in Jill akin to annoyance. Maybe even anger.

“He doesn’t still think you two are together, does he?” Jill asks incredulously, earning a shake of the head from Chris.

“Course not. It’s been so long Jill,” the captain counters, stepping away from her and back to the couch.

“But not for him, am I right?” the blonde woman inquires, studying the man’s face and body language.

“Even so, he understands that it’s been more than a decade. He knows I’m not the same person as before and I’m damn well sure he doesn’t expect for everything to be the same. What we had before...it’s over,” the older man says and that feeling of anger flares up in the blonde agent again at the way it sounds as if it pains Chris to admit it.

Jill purses her lips, “And you’ve made that clear to him?”

“Damn it, Jill, really? This is the least of my worries right now,” Chris huffs as he turns on his heels, not convincing the blonde agent otherwise.

She’s about to protest, voice her problem with her boyfriend being an insensitive, moody jerk since Piers appeared before Chris staggers, a hand flying out to grab onto the wall as his other hand cradles his head.

“Chris?”

“I’m fine,” he says through his heavy breathing, sounding anything but. He shakes his head, as if trying to clear it before attempting to take a step forward, only for his legs to go weak. With a groan of pain, the older man collapses to his knees, Jill rushing forward with panic in her voice.

“Chris? What’s wrong?”

The apartment spins for a moment, his vision fading as black spots slowly consume his consciousness until there is only darkness left.

0o0

The feeling of something soft underneath him is what Chris first becomes aware of, followed by something cool and wet on his forehead. He cracks his eyes open, his vision taking a moment to align before he can focus on the ceiling. He’s in his room, he realizes, turning his head slightly to find Jill seated at his side, patting the wet cloth across his forehead.

“What happened?” Chris rasps, hating how his voice sounds like sandpaper.

“What do you think? You fainted,” Jill informs him, pulling her hand away along with the cloth.

“Fainted?” the word is foreign on the captain’s lips. Chris Redfield doesn’t faint. It’s never happened to him before. Pass out from exhaustion at the end of a long day, yes, but outright faint?

“Yes, Chris, you fainted. I wonder why? Could it be because you haven’t slept in a week? Or maybe it’s because you haven’t eaten a proper meal in over two?” The captain winces at her tone, the woman clearly upset with him. “I knew this would happen,” Jill huffs out. “I knew you were going to run yourself into the ground. Again.”

Over him. Again.

Chris decides not to comment, opting instead to glance over at his window, his numb body stirring as he realizes the sun has already set. Sheva and Josh were supposed to have brought Piers around noon.

“Crap,” Chris curses through his teeth, attempting to sit up before Jill places both hands on his shoulder, preventing him from getting up.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” the blonde woman frowns, unrelenting on the force she’s applying to his shoulder to keep him flat on his back.

“Piers. He was supposed to be here around noon. Where is he?”

“In his room,” Jill states, voice dry as the frown remains on her features.

“What?”

“Sheva and Josh came by to deliver the kid just as I was trying to haul your heavy ass to the bed. Thank god Josh has some muscle,” Jill sighs, only letting go when Chris finally goes slack on the mattress and she’s sure he won’t attempt to get up again.

“They were here?” Chris asks, not sure how to feel about the fact that he had been out cold when Sheva, Josh, and Piers had arrived. They saw him like that? Piers saw him like that? “Are they still here?”

“No,” Jill answers. “Sheva and Josh tried to stick around for as long as they could, but you were out cold. They helped Piers settle in before they left.”

Piers is here. He’s here and the captain had slept right through it? How could he have let that happen? He should have been the one to let him in and to help him settle into his room. The older man didn’t want Jill or anyone else for that matter to be the first person Piers sees when walking into Chris’ apartment, especially when he had never gotten around to breaking the news about him and the blonde woman to the Sniper.

“I have to see him,” Chris tries to sit up again, the blonde agent’s hands firmly planted on his shoulder preventing him from doing so. On any other occasion, Jill wouldn’t have had it so easy holding him down, but the captain still feels a little weak after that fainting spell.

“No, what you have to do is eat and rest,” Jill states, making sure Chris is flat on his back again before she stands up. “I made something light. You’re going to eat all of it and then you’re going to sleep.”

“Jill-” the captain starts before the blonde agent narrows her blue eyes at the older man.

“It’s final,” the woman states, no room for argument. She watches him, daring the captain to protest but when he doesn’t, she turns and walks out of the room, presumably to the kitchen.

Does Jill really expect him to ignore the fact that Piers is right across the hall, especially when he had failed at something so simple as opening his doors to receive the younger man? He won’t be able to sleep. Won’t be able to think of anything else until he does. Jill wants him to rest, and in order for him to do that he needs to see Piers. The captain decides that’s a good enough reason as he rolls off the bed.

Chris’ legs have never felt so weak before in his life, the older man having trouble wobbling across the hall to Piers’ room. The door is slightly ajar, a stream of light through the crack tells the captain the Sniper is in there. He takes a deep breathe before he lets his knuckles knock on the door, the force opening the door a little more to reveal the inside of the room.

Piers is cross-legged on the bed, a bag beside him as he sorts what few possessions he has. Deodorant, a toothbrush, a few articles of clothing. Seeing him there, so young and lonely only assures Chris that he did the right thing offering his home.

“Hey,” Chris greets when hazel glance up. He hates how his voice still sounds raspy, clearing his throat before leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey,” Piers returns, his features turning to one of concern as he furrows his brows. “Feeling better?”

Oh, right. “Yeah, long week,” the older man answers before mentally scolding himself. Crap, that sounds like if Piers’ showing up wore the captain down to the point where he collapsed. It’s not how he intended it at all, hoping that the Ace wouldn’t take it that way.

“Yeah, it’s been a long one for me too,” Piers simply says, but it's enough to ease the older man.

Jill said Sheva and Josh helped Piers settle in, but the room still looks pretty barren save for the bed and that’s probably because the Sniper is occupying it at the moment.

“You don’t have much, do you?” Chris inquires before he realizes no, Piers in fact doesn’t have much other than the clothes on his back the night he had been found.

“No,” Piers answers. “Sheva and Josh were kind enough to get me a few things, but that’s about it.”

“I’ve got a few of my old clothes in the drawer. You can borrow those until we can buy you some,” the older man offers.

Piers lets his eyes roam the older man’s body. It may have been no more than a second, but to Chris it feels like if the Sniper is taking in every detail of his frame, from his feet up to his head, his face heating up despite his attempt to not get flustered over something so petty.

“No offense, but I think your clothes would end up wearing me instead,” Piers breaks into a small grin.

Chris rolls his eyes playfully, a smirk tugging at his own lips, “Not these. I mean old, old clothes. Stuff I packed and meant to give away from when I was still around your size.”

“Ah, how long ago was that?” the Ace jokes before he unfolds his legs and slides them off the side of the bed. “Those might still be pretty big on me. Your clothes fall off me when I wear - uh, I mean, when I wore them.”

It’s true that Chris has always been a little bigger than Piers, taller and toned, and when the Sniper would steal his shirts or his pants, they would hang loose on him.

“Right,” Chris swallows, trying not to let his mind go too far back. “Better than nothing though, right?”

“Yeah, old boyfriend’s clothes it is,” Piers agrees, the word seemingly registering a little too late for the Sniper as he quickly glances up at the older man.

Boyfriend. Chris can’t help but feel like the word is taboo between them even though he isn’t sure why. Maybe because he doesn’t know where they stand. It’s a given they’re not together anymore, right? The captain doesn’t get why this isn’t coming to him like common sense should. He supposes his head still isn’t in the right place.

“Listen,” Chris starts. “About earlier, I didn’t mean for you to walk in on that. Jill told me Sheva and Josh helped you settle in.” He’s beating around the bush and he knows it. “Jill...Jill is-”

“I didn’t expect to see her,” Piers interrupts. “It was a nice surprise. I almost didn’t recognize her at first. She’s blonde now,” he adds as if it’s the most important detail.

Chris blinks at him, “Yeah, she said she needed a change.”

“It looks good on her. Her hair is longer, too” the Sniper states matter-of-factly. “And you said she’s still in S.T.A.R.S, right?”

“She is. Helps me out a lot,” Chris nods, going along with the flow the younger man is setting.

Piers’ gaze remains trained on him and something tells the captain he already knows. He knows Jill has been around. He knows Jill might be more than a co-worker. More than just a partner. Piers sits there, silently watching as if waiting for Chris to say it. Jill is my girlfriend now. Jill is my girlfriend and what we had is long over.

Except she isn’t, at least the older man hadn’t thought of their relationship in that way. Except to Piers, it hasn’t been more than a week, the long years apart meaning very little to nothing to him. Except Chris himself isn’t sure about anything anymore.

Chris never says the words. He doesn’t want to touch that subject yet and it looks like Piers doesn’t either. He just lets it go. They both just let it go.

Chris gets his excuse to leave Piers to his own devices when he hears Jill call his name. She doesn’t sound too happy to see that the captain got up regardless of her warnings. He bids Piers goodnight before he backs out of the room, brown eyes lingering on the younger man for a few moments longer than necessary before he closes the door, turning to see Jill standing across the hall at the doorway to his bedroom.

He offers her a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck as he walks over to her, begging her with his eyes to just let him get to bed. She has always been good at reading him, the frown still present on her face but nothing more as she simply hands him his plate of warm soup before she walks out of the bedroom.

Chris stares at the broth, realizing he isn’t very hungry at all despite everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Resident Evil no mine.
> 
> Author’s Note: Whoo, well this one was a lot of work. It’s easy to write Chris and Jill together. They work well, but I’m a die-hard Nivanfield shipper and that ain’t changing. Ever. Chris and Piers are just MADE for each other. Anyway, I hope this chapter is satisfying and I’d love to hear from you! Thanks for reading.


	11. Chapter 10 - Past (1998)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Past (1998)

The garage door is open, allowing sunlight to stream in as Chris always prefers when he’s finally got the time to work on his project, which is usually on the weekends. This time is no different, the Saturday afternoon finding both him and Piers seeking refuge in the shade of the garage. The radio is propped in the corner of the garage, playing some song Chris hasn’t heard before, but it doesn’t matter either way because his attention is caught between the car above him and Piers, the Sniper a few feet away by the marksman’s tools.

Chris pushes himself out from under the car half-way, gesturing towards his companion, “Hey, hand that to me?” Piers nods, glancing down at the mess of tools scattered by his feet before turning his gaze back to the marksman, the look enough for Chris to understand that he needs to be more specific. “The socket wrench,” he clarifies.

Piers nods again, grabbing the tool and handing it to Chris before standing up, turning to find that they have someone else in the garage with them. Claire’s sitting on the steps to the apartment, elbows on her knees as she props her face up on her hands, blue eyes staring off into the distance.

“Hey, what’s with the long face?” Piers asks the younger Redfield, stepping over to her.

“She’s missing Foo Fighters. They’re playing in town tonight,” Chris’ voice filling in from underneath the car.

“I have to work tonight,” Claire adds, the Sniper’s attention on her prompting her to continue. “I got a job as a babysitter for the Birkin’s. I have to watch their daughter every evening. I don’t usually work Saturdays, but they have some function they have to attend and asked me if I can babysit tonight.”

Piers scrunches his nose, “That the only job you can find? Kids can be such a pain in the ass sometimes. I can’t imagine having to be around them all the time.”

“Sherry is actually a really good kid,” Claire smiles. “I don’t mind watching her at all.”

“Wait till she gets used to you,” the Ace chimes. “I don’t deal with kids if I could help it.”

“You’re telling me,” the marksman joins in again, pushing himself out from under the car again. “I already had to raise that munchkin over there,” Chris gestures to Claire, a smirk gracing his lips. “I’m not going around any kid if I can avoid it.”

“Shit job you did too,” Claire sticks her tongue out at her brother, jumping up and dashing upstairs when Chris sits up and throws the old scrap shirt he had been using to wipe his hands with at her. “I’m kidding!” the redhead laughs at the top of the stairs, turning to duck inside the apartment when Chris laughs in return.

Piers steps over to Chris again, curiosity piqued, “You raised Claire?”

Chris wheels himself around to face the Ace, resting his arms on his raised knees, “Yeah, our parents...they passed away a few years ago. Car accident.”

“Oh,” Piers mutters, shifting from one leg to the next. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s fine,” Chris shrugs and it almost looks practiced. Like if he’s had to brush it off more than once. Piers can only assume he’d had to in order to be able to put all his focus on Claire. That he’d had to in order to be able to support both of them. “It hurts less every day, y’know? Besides, she and I are doing just fine, I’d say.”

The Sniper nods, not trusting his words after stepping into that aspect of Chris’ life Piers is sure has taken its toll on both him and Claire. He can already hear the silence settling in, the Ace not too sure if he should just change the subject or not. The marksman is focused on his filthy hands, digits covered in oil and dirt.

“Redfield,” the name leaves Piers’ lips before he can properly think through his words, Chris’ head shooting up at being called that by the younger man, the confusion conveyed by the furrow of his brows.

The Ace steps over to the rag Chris had thrown at Claire, scooping it up before tossing it over at the marksman, the older man catching it before it smacks him in the face.

Putting on his best sophisticated accent and channeling the only person he knows who pulls it off so well, the Ace crosses his arms over his chest, wishing he had a pair of sunglasses to pull it all together, “Your hands are filthy.”

Chris blinks at him, the action seeming to stretch on for a long moment before he snorts, bursting into a laugh. “That’s not bad! But you need to make your voice more nasally.”

The sound of Chris’ laughter is like a sip of lemonade on a hot day, Piers feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders at being the one to pull it out from the marksman.

Piers can’t help but crack a grin himself, “His voice isn’t nasally.”

“It should be with the way he keeps his nose up in the air,” the marksman remarks, shaking his head before he leans forward, using the rag to wipe the grime off his skilled hands. “The funny thing is I couldn’t stand it when he called me Christopher, but I hate when he calls me by my last name even more.”

“Christopher,” Piers repeats, testing the name on his lips, Chris’ eyes immediately landing in him and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say the marksman shivered for a moment there. He hadn’t thought that Chris would be a shortened version of the marksman’s name, but now that he’s heard it, it has a nice ring to it. “Why don’t you like it when he calls you Christopher?”

“It’s just that everyone calls me Chris and I prefer it. He’s the only one who insists on calling me by my full name.”

“Then Redfield it is,” Piers shrugs, pulling the chair Chris keeps by the corner and sitting down on it, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he regards the older man. “It’s one or the other with the captain, Christopher.”

There it is again, the slight shiver that Chris tries to shake off with a roll of his shoulders, light blue avoiding hazel for a moment before the older man finds his voice. “But I hate Redfield too,” the marksman comments, dropping the dirty rag on the floor by his boots. “Can you imagine having the name Redfield? Kids are cruel, Piers. They called me Slowfield, Dumbfield, Borefield, Tallfield - it was just random shit with the suffix -field added.”

The Sniper tries not to smile, he really does, but damn aren’t kids creative. He can relate, though. “My name wasn’t any better,” Piers responds, eyes dropping to his own hands for a moment as he dredges up memories he usually keeps at the back of his mind. “They’d call me Pie or even Pee. Heck, this one kid even called me Boat.”

“Boat?”

“Cause you tie a boat to a pier,” the Sniper clarifies, grinning when it dawns on Chris, the older man’s brows raising up for a moment before he shakes his head, ducking his face in what Piers assumes is an attempt to hide his own grin. “It’s stupid. I never got a break, if it wasn’t my name, they made fun of my lips.”

That has Chris lifting his head again, “What?”

“They were always pretty full for a boy. You think name calling is bad? You haven’t seen it all yet,” Piers shrugs, noting the way the marksman’s eyes linger on his lips before meeting his eyes, the younger man fighting the heat seeking refuge in his cheeks at catching the older man staring at his mouth. Not for the first time.

“Now that’s just messed up,” Chris comments, swallowing thickly. “It was jealousy. I’m sure of it.”

Piers rolls his eyes, snorting, “That supposed to make it better? I hated my lips. Still not so keen on them.” He lets the words slip before he can catch himself, that happening more often than Piers had ever allowed before. He always thinks before he acts, before he speaks - hanging back to observe before making a move. He supposes it comes with his Sniper training, but with Chris, it’s whole other matter. Once his mouth gets flapping, it’s hard reel it in, Chris’ earnest eyes seemingly prying the words out of him. It’s just that being around Chris is comfortable and the Ace inadvertently lets his guard down and he’s not sure if he’s comfortable with that.

Before Piers can mentally berate himself on such a stupid comment, Chris opens his mouth, “I like them.”

Chris’ gaze meets his, the flush spreading from his cheeks down to his neck and Piers realizes that maybe he’s not the only one having trouble controlling his tongue.

“Er, I mean,” Chris tries to backtrack before he shakes his head, determined expression taking over his features as he sits back, his usual bravado shining through. “They’re nice, no use denying facts. They...fit you.”

“Fit me?” the Sniper repeats, unable to hold back the chuckle that escapes his lips. “Never heard that before.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your lips, alright?” the marksman states, wondering just when this became about wanting, no, more like needing Piers to understand that he’s perfect just the way he is.

Piers purses his lips, subconscious at them being the center of conversation and the action reminds Chris that the younger man’s mouth isn’t his eyes, forcing his gaze back up again to hazel, finding that the Sniper already has his eyes trained on him in return.

“Ok,” the younger man mutters, more to break their locked gazes as he runs a hand through his short hair.

Chris clears his throat, “T-too bad she’s missing the concert, though. We’ll tell her how it went.”

It’s an obvious attempt to change subject and the Sniper takes it, genuinely intrigued, “Huh? You got tickets?”

“Nope.”

Piers furrows his brows, “Then how are we getting in?”

“You really don’t go out much, do you?” Chris chuckles, pushing himself up to his feet. “Just leave it to me.”

0o0

Piers should have known that it would come to this. The concert is being held in open air, a chain link fence securing the perimeter, the flashing lights and music already signaling that the concert has already begun.

Since the moment Piers hopped in Chris’ truck he had his suspicions, the marksman only confirming them when he pulls up about a block away from the location, dragging the Sniper along behind him up the hill to the fence.

Chris glances around, checking the security before grabbing hold of the fence, muttering something about crappy security before pausing when he notices that Piers isn’t by his side. The marksman turns around, finding the Ace standing a few feet away and eyeing the fence as if it has personally offended him.

“What are you doing? Let’s go,” Chris hisses, glancing around to make sure no one is watching them.

“Are you serious? This is your plan? To jump the fence?” Piers asks, glancing between the marksman and concert carrying on beyond the fence. “I thought you were kidding when you said you didn’t have tickets.”

This guy is serious. Chris wants to jump the fence.

The marksman shifts his weight to his left side, fingers still clutching the chain-link fence, “Do you want to get in or not?”

“Not by breaking in or whatever you call this,” the Sniper shakes his head.

“It’s called living a little,” Chris snorts, the corner of Piers’ lips only turning downward even further. “Look, I don’t wanna miss this concert, Piers.”

“Then listen to it from here.”

“No way,” Chris shakes his head. “Just come on. I have the perfect spot.”

Piers blinks, surprised at how the marksman sounds as if he’s done this kind of thing before. What delinquent serves as the marksman of S.T.A.R.S?

“Goody two shoes,” Chris mumbles, but not low enough that the Ace can’t catch what he said. “Have you ever broken any rules? Ever?”

Piers crosses his arms over his chest, answering as honestly as he could, “Not intentionally.”

Chris lets his jaw fall open for a moment, as if he hadn’t pegged Piers as the straight A kid with model behavior, in which he’d be right, but the Sniper has never really gone out of his way to break the law. Rebel against his parents, yes, but that’s a different matter.

The marksman clamps his mouth shut and something close to resignation crosses his features. The clues have always been there. The Ace’s way of going by the book, practicing until he’s the best at what he does, never doing things half-way.

“Then take this as your first chance,” Chris says as if he’s just solved an impossible riddle. “You like to try new things, right?”

The Sniper raises an eyebrow at the older man, “Don’t use my words against me.”

Chris sighs dramatically, “C’mon! We’re not hurting anybody! Let’s just have fun. Don’t you know how to let loose?”

“Course I do, but this isn't my idea of letting loose.”

Chris rolls his eyes, “Then let's do it my way tonight. Don’t ruin this for me and just come on.”

The marksman turns then, ignoring Piers’ protests as he jumps onto the fence, easily scaling it, throwing a leg over the top and practically straddling it.

“Chris!”

“Keep your voice down,” Chris hisses down at the younger man, looking around again before meeting Piers’ gaze. “Do you want to get caught?”

Piers can’t help himself as he also glances around, only looking back up at Chris when he’s sure no one has spotted them, “Get down here.”

A grin breaking Chris’ features and the Sniper can almost see the red horns that have sprouted from the top of his head, “If you wanna stop me, then you gotta come get me.”

“Chris!” the Sniper snaps, but the marksman doesn’t relent, swinging his other leg over the fence, preparing to descend before he lets himself drop to the ground. “This isn’t funny. Get back over here,” the younger man demands, met only with another smirk from the marksman.

“Come over and get me, or are you too scared?” Chris taunts before he steps away from the fence and Piers can see it on his face that the older man isn’t going to listen to him.

Pier grits his teeth, narrowed eyes glaring daggers at the marksman and he is compelled to turn around and walk away, but his heart is beating hard in his chest and he’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. It’s exciting almost, the prospect of being caught, of doing something he knows is not right. Chris is beyond the fence, light blue eyes trained on him and just daring him and for some reason the Ace can’t really place, he wants to be over on that side of the fence with him.

“Damn you,” Piers curses under his breath before he’s moving forward and hopping the fence, the smirk on Chris’ face blossoming into a full blown smile.

“Atta boy,” the older man chuckles as the Sniper drops inside, noticing as some people glance over at them. “C’mon,” he urges, leading Piers around the back of the vending booths, stopping behind a wooden one with a flat roof so suddenly that the Ace almost walks into him. “This one looks sturdy enough,” the marksman remarks before he’s climbing up, Piers tempted to reprimand him again before he realizes that Chris just isn’t going listen to him.

With a resigned sigh, the Sniper takes the offered hand and lets the marksman haul him the side of the booth to the top beside him. Chris sprawls his legs out in front of himself, leaning back on his hands while Piers crosses his legs under himself.

“Look at that, we’ve got the best view,” Chris grins, nudging the Sniper in the side with his elbow.

Piers’ mind is split between wondering how much trouble they’d be in if they get caught and the people moving to the sway of the beat, drinks in hand and just generally having a good time.

“It’s surprisingly easy to get in,” Piers mutters under his breath.

“No, don’t start. We’re having fun and letting loose my way, not working,” Chris chides.

Piers glances at the older man beside him, “Does that mean next time we’ll let loose my way?”

The marksman tears his gaze away from the concert to find the Ace’s, “Only if you cut loose and chill here.”

“Fine,” the Sniper nods. “I can do that.”

It’s not so bad. He still has a twist in his gut that Piers is sure is from hopping that fence, but Chris is right, the view really is nice. There must be at least more than 300 hundred people in that crowd, the lights illuminating the night.

“So do you do this with all the girls you date?” Piers asks, bumping Chris in the shoulder with his own.

The older man snorts, shaking his head, “No way. This is hardly a proper date. Besides, you’re not a girl. Consider yourself lucky I even brought you along. Breaking the law and all that,” he chuckles and Piers knows he’s just messing with him.

“It wouldn’t be a bad one,” the Sniper defends the idea and he means it. Up here on this booth, just the two of them, looking down on these people. “Well, for me anyway.”

Chris is silent for a moment before he sits up, light blue seeking hazel and holding them when he finds them, “Are you saying you want this to be a date?”

“What?” Piers’ head turns to Chris so quickly he thinks he might have pulled a muscle, feeling his cheeks grow warm with what he knows is embarrassment. “No, nothing like that. What I’m trying to say is that I’ve never been to a concert before and it’s nice and thank you and all that.”

“Seriously? Never?” Chris blinks, “What did you do growing up?”

“My father took me hunting a lot,” Piers explains. “He used to wait all year long for hunting season, spending days out there in the wilderness. Sometimes it was just me and him. Other times men from his unit would join us. It was a pretty big deal for us.”

“Is that how you got so good with a rifle?”

“Hm?” Piers turns to settle his gaze on Chris again, noticing that the older man’s attention is solely on him. “Yeah. I’ve gone every year since I was eight.”

Chris nods, “Did you like it? Hunting with him?”

“Yeah, for the most part,” the younger man answers, but his next words sound distant, almost pained. “The last time not so much.”

“You don’t go with him anymore?”

Piers doesn’t verbally answer this time, eyes trained on the mingling crowd before shaking his head. Chris gets the message. It’s a topic the Ace would rather not delve into right now.

The marksman pulls his jacket closer to himself, a cool breeze blowing in, “The most I’ve done is fishing. Always wanted to go hunting, though.”

Piers turns to him then, hazel locking with light blue, “You wanna come with?”

Chris purses his lips, brows furrowing, “I thought you said you don’t hunt anymore.”

“I said I don’t go anymore with my father, but I like hunting,” the Sniper clarifies. “If you’re up for it, we can go. Hunting,” he adds although the marksman isn’t too sure why Piers needed to make sure that point is clear.

The older man lets a small smile cross his features, “Well, we’re supposed to let loose your way next time, aren’t we?”

Piers smiles then, taking Chris’ answer as a ‘yes’ and the marksman’s grin spreads even wider in response. The younger man doesn’t smile much and every time he does is like a small victory for Chris, especially if he’s the one to put that smile on the Sniper’s face.

“It’s a promise.”

0o0

Claire had meant to leave a good twenty minutes ago, but the twelve-year-old girl clinging to her is making that near impossible. Half-way out the door, Sherry Birkin’s thin arms are wrapped around her babysitter’s waist, unrelenting despite Claire’s assurances.

“Hey, don’t cry. You know that I’ll see you again soon,” the redhead tries to soothe, running her fingers through Sherry’s short, blonde hair.

It’s always like this whenever the Birkin’s come home and it’s time for Claire to leave, the girl refusing to ever make it easy. The redhead is flattered that the young girl has taken to her so well. The only thing that could be worse with a babysitting job is an unruly kid hell bent on making the night chaotic hell.

“Sherry, let Claire go home,” Annette Birkin chastises as she steps into the hall, grabbing her daughter’s arm and having to pry her off the teen.

Sherry pouts, wanting to argue, but it hasn’t stopped Claire from leaving before. The girl understands that Claire has to leave, but it doesn’t make her lonely days any better. The redhead can tell that much. She has no siblings and parents that both work long shifts, hardly any time left over for her.

Claire feels her heart go put to the girl, like it does every time she has to leave, even though she’ll be back to watch her on Monday.

“Be good, ok?” Claire offers Sherry a kind smile, tucking a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear.

Sherry nods, pout still in place, but she waves as Claire finally steps out, her mother closing the door.

The redhead makes her way to the driveway, her bike parked to the side. She walks it onto the street, not wanting the hum of the engine to disturb the Birkin’s before she slips one leg over it, grabbing her helmet.

“Well if it isn’t bike girl,” a voice calls out, Claire turning around to see a young man standing across the street.

The redhead furrows her brows, wondering just who the heck this guy is before he steps closer to the street light, illuminating the shaggy head of blonde hair that jogs her memory.

“Oh, well if it isn’t the gas station thief,” Claire states dryly, the guy exaggerating an expression of what she assumes is supposed to be hurt.

“It’s Steve,” he corrects, stressing his name.

“Like I said, gas station thief,” the redhead shrugs. “You following me?”

“What?” Steve’s eyes widen, looking like a deer caught in the headlights before he rushes to explain himself when Claire raises a brow in question. “No, was visiting a friend,” he gestures down the street but the redhead has no idea to which house.

Claire hums, slipping her helmet over her head, Steve making to cross the street before thinking better of it and staying where he is. He’d better. Chris has taught his baby sister a thing or two about ass kicking.

“You still not gonna give me your name?” he settles for asking instead, burying his hands in his pocket.

“You still gonna be a creep?” Claire counters instead, turning on her bike, feeling it smoothly rev to life.

“Aw shoot, I’m not tryin to come off that way. Not every day you meet a girl who rides a sweet ride like that. Not ‘round here, anyway,” Steve tries to backtrack, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

Claire snorts, kicking up the stand on her bike before glancing back over at the guy, “Claire.”

“Huh?”

“That’s my name, Claire,” is all she says before she’s taking off down the road, once again leaving Steve staring at her bike’s rear lights.

She doesn’t see the way he watches them before they disappear, or the way his lips pull into a grin and he shakes his head.

“Claire,” Steve repeats to himself. “It has a nice ring to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Resident Evil and its characters are not mine.
> 
> Author's Note: Happy New Year! Hope this coming year is better than the last :)
> 
> Chris is wild, let’s just go with that, lol. He lives life to the fullest. Also, I’m really not trying to make Steve come off as a creep cause if I were Claire and some guy tried approaching me not once or twice, at night, let me add, I’d freak, but then again, Claire is an independent bad ass like her brother. She can take care of herself.
> 
> Please let me know how I’m doing and drop me a comment!


	12. Chapter 11 - Present (2012)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present (2012)

Dawn finds Chris Redfield wide awake, watching the sun slowly creep across the ceiling, the silence filled by his breathing and that of Jill’s. He slowly turns to look at her, the blonde woman turned on her side with her back towards him. Chris hadn’t even realized she had stayed over until he had drifted awake a few hours ago, the warmth radiating off her not doing much to lull him back to sleep.

The captain rubs at his eyes, deciding that now is as good as time as any to start the day. He’s always been an early riser, trying to walk the forest before anything else, and now that he has no reason to, now that he can sleep in till much later, now that he can finally get some rest, he can’t. Not with Piers right across the hall. Chris found himself repeating that to himself all throughout the night. Piers is right across the hall. Right across the hall.

Chris slowly sits up, careful not to wake Jill as he slips off the bed, bare feet padding quietly across the floor as he practically squeezes through the doorway in an attempt to not have the door squeak on its hinges. He doesn’t have to tip-toe anymore, but he does anyway, not wanting to wake the other occupant of the apartment as he crosses the hall. The captain grabs the handle to the guest room, quietly turning it and pushing it open enough to poke his head inside, the need to make sure Piers is actually still across the hall hard to shake off.

The captain’ stomach uncoils, the indescribable dread that accompanies his worries of not seeing Piers laying in that bed quelling. No, Chris doesn’t have to wake up early to comb the forest. He has replaced that new habit with a new one. Waking up early to make sure Piers is still here. That he hasn’t just simply vanished again.

Piers looks even younger while sleeping, no doubt in Chris’ mind that he really hasn’t aged a day. Soft lashes brush the top of his cheeks, lips slightly parted as soft breathes escape them, chest rising and falling calmly and so very much alive. Piers is good looking, with those sharp hazel eyes and full lips, defined facial structures adding to his attractiveness, but like this, with the soft morning light dancing across his skin, Chris can’t help but think that he’s beautiful. Beautiful. Christ, is this really what his sleep deprived mind can come up with?

Fourteen years without the younger man and Piers can still manage to enchant the captain by simply sleeping. Fourteen years without the Sniper and Chris can’t help but want to make up for lost time by staring at him until his dry eyes urge him to blink and even then it won’t ever be enough.

Chris finds that he likes to watch Piers sleep. It’s much easier than talking. Aside from catching up, Chris doesn’t know what else to talk to Piers about, but at least like this, with the Sniper asleep, the captain doesn’t have to wrack his brain for a topic of pleasant conversation. And he doesn’t have to be so formal as when talking to a stranger, because that’s what Piers is, isn’t he? No, that’s not right. Piers hasn’t changed. Chris is the one who has changed and he can see it in Piers eyes whenever the youth looks at him. Chris is the stranger. He’s unfamiliar, big and old. He’s the product of fourteen years worth of living on this hell on earth.

“What are you doing?” cuts through the silence of the morning, startling the captain as he whips his head around so fast he almost pulls a muscle.

Jill is standing behind him, arms crossed over her chest as she’s been so fond of doing for the past few days. One eyebrow raised in question, Chris doesn’t miss the aura of annoyance radiating off the blonde woman. He had thought that he had left her asleep in bed.

“Shit Jill, almost jumped out of my skin,” Chris hisses under his breathe, quietly closing the door and stepping away as not to wake Piers.

“You were watching him sleep?” Jill asks, but it sounds more like an accusation.

“What? No,” the older man denies, but he knows it’s a losing battle with the way the blonde woman narrows her eyes at him.

“That’s just creepy, Chris.”

“I’m not watching him sleep,” the older man argues, running his hands through his short, dark hair. “It’s just…”

“Just?” Jill prompts, wanting to know what explanation the captain could have for poking his head into Piers’ room and standing there for a good ten minutes.

Chris purses his lips, hand sliding down to the back of his neck as he debates finishing his explanation, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before he focuses on Jill again. “I’m scared he’ll disappear again,” he admits a bit sheepishly.

When Piers had gone missing, it had been so sudden. No signs. No warning. One moment he exists in Chris’ life and then in the next it’s as if he never did. He can’t help getting up at the break of dawn to check on Piers. He’s been doing it for the past week, but the fear is rooted deep in his bones and he doubts he’ll be able to shake it off. Not that it’s an unwelcome habit on his part, but others may not see it his way.

Jill, for example. The woman had opted to spend the night again. It’s not uncommon, but it certainly hadn’t been night after night like this. She’s practically moved in along with Piers. She’s also been by his side, coming off as a bit possessive. If Chris himself is able to notice it, then it’s gotten to the point where she’s more than a little clingy. In the end, however, her familiar presence helps him keep his head on straight, so he isn’t complaining.

The annoyance that had begun to radiate from the women seems to dissipate, her raised brows lowering again as her full lips tug into a frown.  
“Chris,” Jill sighs, arms falling to her side. Her tone almost sounds as if she’s talking to a child.

Before she can utter another word, a loud sound erupts from down the hall, the consecutive banging consistent with someone knocking on the front door.

“What the hell?” Chris grunts, moving around Jill and towards the front door. Who would be banging on his door at five in the morning?

“Chris, wake up!” a feminine yet in no way soft voice calls through the wood. A voice Chris knows better than his own.

The captain unlocks the door and swings it open and sure enough Claire Redfield is at his door.

“Claire?” Chris couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice, especially since he had no idea his sister was coming. “What are you doing here?”

“Where is he? He’s here, isn’t he?” the redhead asks as she brushes past her brother into the apartment, her carry-on bag rolling noisily behind her.

“What?”

“Oh right,” Claire says before she steps over to her brother and plants a quick kiss on his cheek before turning to Jill, the blonde woman watching the two in just as much confusion as the captain. “Morning, Jill,” she smiles, Chris getting the impression that she’s running high on something, which he will assume is coffee, before Claire sets her sights on him again. “Piers, he’s staying here with you, isn’t he?”

Chris grunts before he finds his voice, “Yeah, but, why didn’t you tell me you were flying over?”

“I hopped on the first plane I could to get here,” Claire explains, propping her bag in a corner.

“You could have still found the time to tell me! Heck, I could have picked you up at the airport,” the older Redfield argues.

“No time for that,” Claire waves him off. “Where is he?”

The redhead turns around, trudging through the apartment before she pauses in front of Jill, the blonde woman blinking at Claire before she realizes the younger woman isn’t looking at her. Jill steps to the side and from over Claire’ shoulder Chris sees Piers, all sleepy eyes and messy hair standing in the hall. The captain can’t see Claire’s expression from where he is, but he can see Piers’ and he looks as if he’s seen a ghost. The older man imagines that should be the expression Claire has painted on her face, not the Sniper, but then again, Piers must have still been remembering an eighteen-year-old Claire, not one that’s thirty-three. It must be just as much as a shock to him.

Neither of them move for a long minute, the silence stretching before it’s broken with a lopsided smile from Piers, “I thought I recognized that voice.”

Claire finally moves then, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace, face buried in the crook of the Sniper’s neck. Piers’ gaze quickly catches Chris’ before he’s focusing on Claire, bringing his arms up to to return her embrace. He looks lost, not sure what to say and any ideas Piers might have had die in his throat when Claire’s shoulders tremble, her arms tightening around him as a sob slips from her, muffled into the Sniper’s shirt.

Chris can see the moment Piers’ expression changes from one of bewilderment to hurt, Chris himself hating the sound of his sister sobbing so hard that she can’t pull herself together long enough to speak. The Sniper tightens his hold around Claire, burying his face in her hair as he tries to keep his own emotions in check.

Chris knows that they will be like that for a while, but even so, he can’t find it in himself to look away, teeth clamping down on his own quivering bottom lip as he watches the two people he deeply cares about reunite for the first time after so long.

0o0

“When you told me he hadn’t changed, I didn’t realize you were being so literal,” Claire mumbles, wiping at her puffy eyes from her position against the kitchen counter, a mug of coffee in her other hand.

It’s just Chris and his sister, Jill and Piers having retreated to their respective rooms to get ready for the day, the captain taking it upon himself to make breakfast in the meantime.

“I did say he looks exactly the same,” the older Redfield shrugs, cracking an egg against the side of the frying pan before letting it sizzle onto the skillet.

“Yeah, well I thought you meant he’s still Piers, y’know? Older but recognizable? Different yet the same?” Claire returns, pouting at not having caught onto what her brother had meant.

“Like you?” Chris mumbles, trying to sound nonchalant. “He recognized you immediately.”

“By the time I managed to get down here to see him he’s already expecting an older me, isn’t he? Still looked pretty shocked to see me,” Claire tries to reason. “How has he been?”

“Taking things better than I expected,” is all Chris can think to say.

Claire hums, “Fourteen years. That’s a long time. I can’t even picture what it’s like for him when he steps out of this apartment.”

Chris shrugs, but the thought has also occurred to him on more than one occasion, “He hasn’t left.”

“What do you mean he hasn’t left? The apartment? He hasn’t been around town yet?”

“I didn’t want it to be too much for him. He was brought here straight from the hospital,” the captain tries to reason, flipping the egg over and wincing when he realizes he’s managed to burn it a little.

“Chris, it’s been what? More than a week?”

“He’s still trying to grasp touch screen TVs. Excuse me for taking things slow with him,” the older Redfield grunts, glancing over at his sister with furrowed brows.

“You sound so old,” Claire sighs before she places her mug down. “Why don’t you just admit you’ve been too busy?”

Chris shakes his head, “I haven’t. I’m on leave now.”

“Then there’s no excuse. Hiding him in here isn’t gonna help,” the younger Redfield declares decidedly before she pushes away from the counter. “Are you coming?”

“Where?”

“To take Piers out,” Claire states before he shakes her head. “You know what? Never mind. I’ll take him.”

“Claire, wait,” Chris starts, the redhead placing her hands on her hips as she faces her older brother.

“Relax, we won’t be out long. I think the fresh air will do him some good.”

“Claire,” the older man frowns, but Claire shakes her head again, not wanting to hear it.

“I missed him too, ok?” the redhead admits. “And I came all the way out here to see him. At least give me some time with him.”

Chris furrows his brows, not looking like he’d budge in any second, but Claire doesn’t let him, spinning on her heel just as Piers pokes his head into the kitchen.

“Piers! I was just about to go get you. How about we go out for breakfast?” Claire offers, smiling brightly at the Sniper.

“Uh,” Piers hesitates for a moment, glancing at the captain in the kitchen before the younger Redfield waves to get his attention back on her.

“Just you and me,” she smiles before turning to face her brother again, hand outstretched as if waiting for something. “Keys please.”

Chris glances between his sister and Piers before he sighs in defeat, grabbing the keys from the drawer he usually tosses them in before placing them in his sister’s hands. The look Claire gets is enough for her to get the message: keep a close eye on Piers.

“Thank you,” Claire smiles before she walks out of the kitchen, gesturing for the Sniper to follow.

Piers glances at Chris for a moment, getting a small nod from the older man before he trails after the redhead.

0o0

Even though Claire had taken Chris’ keys, they opted out of taking his truck in favor of walking. The diner is just a few blocks from Chris’ apartment, but that doesn’t stop Piers from taking in everything around him, hazel jumping from one thing to the next like a kid in a candy store.

Claire smiles at him, nudging him on the arm to get his attention, “Not what you expected?”

“It’s familiar yet different,” Piers shrugs. “I haven’t been much to this part of Raccoon City to begin with.”

Claire nods, “Raccoon hasn’t changed much, but I’m sure the people have, huh?”

The Sniper glances at her and the redhead knows she hit the nail on the head. Chris isn’t the same as before. Neither is Jill. Claire herself is different. She likes to think she’s matured into an independent woman, learning from experiences and past mistakes.

Claire takes Piers to a diner, a relatively small establishment with a few other customers so early in the morning. They pick a table by a window, the waitress coming over to their table once their comfortably seated across from each other.

“Good morning, what can I get for you?” the waitress smiles, pad ready in hand to take their orders.

“Good morning, I’m in the mood for pancakes,” Claire smiles, the waitress nodding and asking her what kind she’d like.

Piers’ gaze strays away from the waitress to Claire, her short hair the first immediate change that had stuck out to him. The younger Redfield had tended to wear her hair in a high ponytail, bangs falling across her blue eyes, but now she’s cut it shoulder length, swept off her face and giving her an air of maturity that she carries well. Other than that, she’s still Claire and that thought alone comforts him more than the redhead would ever know.

“And what will you be having?” the waitress smiles, turning to Piers.

The Sniper blinks, realizing she is speaking to him, “Uh, the same, please.”

The waitress nods, scribbling something on her pad before promptly walking away.

Claire glances over the types of syrup they have lined up to the side of the table before turning her attention on Piers, folding her arms in front of her on the table, “So, how have you been holding up?”

“I’m...doing better now I guess,” Piers admits, adding a small shrug for emphasis, because really, how else is he supposed to answer that without saying confused and feeling completely out of this world. “The first few days were the hardest.”

“I can only imagine. Chris told me you think it’s only been one night,” the redhead offers him a sympathetic smile, the desire to reconnect with him evident in her eyes.

“I don’t think so, I know so,” the Sniper corrects, standing by his version of events. “I get lost for two or three hours and then the next thing I know I’m being told fourteen years have passed.”

Claire’s gaze is unwavering on his, most likely trying to understand how such a phenomenon can happen. She might have settled on impossible if the living proof hadn’t been sitting right in front of her. Piers’ hasn’t aged. He looks just as he does in her brother’s old photographs, the ones he keeps tucked away in his wallet or in his drawer at the office.

“I’m sorry this happened, whatever this is, but I’m sure there has to be a reasonable explanation,” the younger Redfield tries, but right now her mind is drawing up blanks on how this can all be explained.

Piers shrugs, “Maybe there isn’t.”

Claire opens her mouth but pauses when the waitress returns with their orders. She places a plate of pancakes in front of Claire before doing the same to Piers, both of them giving her their thanks before the redhead focuses on Piers again.

“Why do you say that?” she asks, reaching for the syrup before drowning her pancakes with it.

“No one knows what’s wrong with me,” Piers explains. “The doctors, the investigators, none of them can figure out what happened to me.”

“I think we should give it some time.”

“They’re probably just going to say I have some weird condition where I don’t age and that I’m faking amnesia,” the Sniper mutters, picking at his pancakes.

Claire frowns, “They can’t possibly. How are they going to explain you missing for fourteen years?”

Piers shrugs but offers one anyway, “I hid very well.”

“They’ve already mentioned these things, haven’t they?” Claire asks, outstretching her hand and placing it on Piers’ when he nods. “And what do you say happened?”

The Sniper shrugs again, “I’m just as confused. I skipped fourteen years and I have no idea how.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Claire tries. “We’re on your side. Me, Chris, and I’m sure Jill is too.”

Piers looks up at the redhead then, “Were you guys searching for me all this time?”

Claire bites her bottom lip, “There was always the hope that we’d find you. But days turned into weeks, then months, then years...”

Claire doesn’t have to finish for Piers to understand. After so many years missing, he must have been thought as dead. And if he was dead, there’s no reason to wait. To hope.

“Hey, don’t get me wrong,” Claire frowns, warm fingers lacing with Piers’. “We never stopped searching. We’d watch the news hoping that someone may have any clues, maybe even have found you. There was always that possibility that you’d show up. It got to the point where every person that walked by could have been you.”

The Ace has to look away at that, downcast eyes unable to meet Claire’s, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no, don’t apologize for something that wasn’t you fault.”

“And Chris?” the Sniper dares to ask, hazel searching blue again. “Did he keep searching for me like that too?”

Claire furrows her brows before she understands why Piers must be asking. He and her brother had been dating after all, “Especially Chris.”

Piers gaze flickers away from hers for a moment and Claire sees the doubt in his eyes and she’s pretty sure about what might be causing that guilt.

Claire leans forward, plate of pancakes momentarily forgotten, “You think he moved on, didn’t you? With Jill?”

Piers’ eyes find hers again in an instant, “I... I didn’t expect him to wait, if that’s what you mean.”

Maybe not, but Claire’s sure that there might be a part of Piers that may have hoped so. If the Sniper really did skip fourteen years, it must have been a shock to find out from one moment to the next that everything he has ever known has changed - progressed, without him. Including Chris.

“Piers,” Claire starts, but the Ace speaks up, not allowing her to continue.

“Enough about me. There isn’t much to learn about me, anyway,” he waves her concern away, pulling his hand from under hers. “But you...tell me how you have been.”

Claire is silent for a moment, but she decides to let Piers change the subject. “Ok,” she relents. She wants to catch up with Piers, have a good time with him and so far the redhead doesn’t think she’s been doing a good job, especially if they keep lingering on that subject. “Let’s see, where do I start? Oh, I went back to university and graduated.”

Piers smiles at the news, going along with the enthusiasm Claire set, “And Sherry?”

“That’s right! You got to meet Sherry, didn’t you? She’s actually in university now,” the younger Redfield informs, picking up her fork to finally dig into her food.

“Wow, already?”

“Yup, and she’s been going on and on about getting a bike,” Claire smiles, shaking her head slightly.

“Ah, I wonder who she takes after,” Piers returns, taking a sip from his orange juice.

Claire grins sheepishly, “Yeah, but I don’t have my bike anymore, so…”

“Wait, you don’t?”

“No, Steve decided it’s time we got something the both of us could use,” Claire pouts, but it’s obvious that she isn’t all that upset about it, which is a testament to how much she’s matured. The Claire he knew would have never given up the fast life, but then again, never is a strong word.

“Steve?” Piers frowns, before his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Wait, you mean that prisoner?”

“He’s not in jail anymore and if you must know, he’s my fiancé,” Claire quips, the corner of her mouth turning upward at the revelation of what must be the biggest news she’s ever had.

“What? But I thought Chris was furious about you going behind his back and seeing him. In prison,” he adds.

“He was and he gave me hell for it, but I’m pretty thick-headed I must admit. It also took a lot of effort from Steve’s part after he was released to convince my brother,” the redhead admits and the way she says it only hints at how much headache the Redfield’s must have had over this.

Piers looks impressed, almost bewildered, especially if Claire got Chris to approve of her marrying an ex-convict, “I really did miss a lot.”

Claire chuckles at that, “You did. But now that you’re back, we’re gonna fill you in on everything.”

Piers returns her smile with a small one of his own before it drops, hazel glancing down at his plate, “Hey, Claire, can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure.”

“I, um, there’s somewhere I’ve been wanting to go,” Piers admits, but the way his voice drops informs Claire this is something serious.

“Yeah, sure,” Claire nods, the determination in her eyes all the Sniper needs to know that she means it.

0o0

The cool night breeze blows in through the open windows of Chris’ truck as he pulls off the road and into a hotel parking lot. He steps on the brakes, reluctant to even put the car in park especially since this drive hadn’t been his idea in the first place.

Chris turns to Claire, half his face cast in shadows, but he knows she can make out the sour expression on his face. “Are you sure you don’t just wanna crash at my place?”

Claire opens the door, throwing a glance over her shoulder at her brother, “There’s nowhere for me to sleep.”

“I’ll take the couch.”

Claire raises an eyebrow at her brother, “And share a bed with Jill? Nah, it’s alright.”

Chris frowns in response, her tone rubbing him the one way as he watches her hop out his truck and slam the door shut behind herself, “Why’d you say it like that?”

The older Redfield shifts the car in park, but Claire shakes her head. “I got it,” she says, reaching into the trunk to grab her suitcase, letting it land on the pavement by her feet.

“Claire.”

“No reason,” Claire shrugs, knowing that Chris still wants an answer to his question.

“Claire.”

The redhead turns to face her brother, leaning forward to be able to see him from the passenger side window, “I’m grateful to Jill. I really am. And I’m also immensely happy Piers is back. I just don’t want to see either of them hurt.” Chris furrows his brows, but the redhead pushes away from the passenger side to make her away around the front of the truck to the driver’s side, leaning in to place a kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for dropping me off, but I’ve got it from here. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Chris grunts, leaning back against his seat.

The younger Redfield turns to head inside before she pauses, glancing back over her shoulder at Chris, “There’s one more thing. Today, Piers asked me a favor. He wanted me to take him to his parents.”

Claire’s words take a moment for Chris to process, “What?”

Claire hadn't’ expected it. The question had rolled off Piers’ tongue with hesitation, but the redhead didn’t deny him. They ended up going back for Chris’ truck, Claire contemplating whether she should have told Piers to let Chris take the Sniper since he had at least met Piers’ parents, but it had been hard enough for the Ace to ask her, the sorrowful look in his eyes all the redhead needed to see to know that this is important to Piers.

Standing there in the afternoon heat, sunning beating down on their backs, Piers had stood like a statue, hazel eyes trained on the graves with his parent’s names engraved on them. No parent should have to bury their child, but it’s just as hard to bury a parent, especially both at the same time. Claire knows that pain all too well, her gaze trained on Piers’ back as he too has to come to terms with the fact that his parents are no longer around.

In a way, it’s like if both parent and child had to say goodbye to the other. Piers’ parents never got to find their son. They died while their son had been missing, a decade of searching not enough to find their only son. And now, Piers is back and he never gets to reunite with his family. It’s like they missed each other. It’s sickeningly poetic in a way, since in life, when the Nivans had been together as a family once, they still kept missing each other. Claire remembers when Piers had flown out to visit his parents and when on that very same night Chris had gotten a call from Piers and he had ride out on her bike through the night to get to him. The Nivans had problems. What family didn’t? Claire is just sad that there could never be some kind of reconciliation. Understanding. Forgiveness.

All Piers has now is their grave stones and unresolved pain. Guilt.

“Just thought you should know,” Claire mutters before she turns and walks through the front doors of the hotel.

Chris sits there in his truck, watching her disappear through the doors, feeling the cool night wind ruffle his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.
> 
> Author’s Note: And here is Claire! She’s really fun to write and I hope I’m doing her justice. I used Revelations 2 Claire after she cuts her hair as the reference to her older appearance. 
> 
> Pier is close to both Redfield siblings, but Piers just found it hard to approach Chris on the subject of his parents.


	13. Chapter 12 - Past (1998)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Past (1998)

“I’m going out with Chris tonight.”

Those are the six words spoken by one Jill Valentine, her flushed cheeks and wide smile betraying how happy she is. 

Piers doesn’t know what else to say other than, “Great. I hope it all works out.” 

Jill is a gorgeous woman, her short brown hair tucked under her chin and framing her face. Her clear blue eyes are stunning, only rivaled by her full lips. For a petite woman, she’s built like an hourglass, but under that beauty lies a woman no one takes lightly. Deadly aim and combat skills to hold her own, Jill earns her place in the S.T.A.R.S unit, good enough to be made part of Alpha Team, Raccoon City’s elite. She has had her eyes on Chris for a while now, Piers picking up on it and realizing that it had been going on since before the Sniper joined the unit. It’s about time she actually did something about it. He told her to go for it and it looks like she finally did. Piers supposes he should be glad for them, but really, what goes on between them is none of his business. 

Piers’ thoughts come to an end as his back hits the ground, wind forced out of his lungs and a groan escaping his lips. Hazel eyes squint in an attempt to keep the sun from burning his retinas, saved only when a figure leans over him, their shadow casting over Piers’ face.

“You’re off your game, Piers,” Chris states, looking down on the fallen Sniper splayed out on his back, a triumphant smirk on his lips. “Even Rebecca got the hang of it.”

Rebecca had left a few minutes ago, Chris insisting that Piers get the maneuver down before they leave for the weekend, the only problem is that the Ace’s head doesn’t seem to be in their sparring match.

“What’s up with you?” Chris asks, sitting down beside the Ace, arms resting on his knees, watching him curiously when the Sniper chooses to remain on his back. “You’ve been zoned out for most of the afternoon.”

Piers shrugs, hazel finding light blue before the first thought that pops in his head escapes his lips, “Can’t wait for the weekend, I guess.”

“You don’t sound enthusiastic at all,” the marksman raises an eyebrow at the Ace. “What’s so great about this weekend? Got plans?”

No. None at all, but Jill and Chris do. Piers squeezes his eyes shut, derailing that train of thought. “Not really. Planning on catching up on sleep,” he offers instead.

“Sleep?”

“Yup, sleep.”

Chris shakes his head, rolling his eyes before he pats the Ace on the arm. “C’mon, let’s go,” he says as he climbs up to his feet.

“Actually, it’s fine. I think I’ll walk today,” the Sniper answers, sitting up and running his fingers through his sweaty hair, trying get the dirt out of it.

Chris raises a brow at him, “Piers, you live at least five miles away.” 

“I know, I just wanna walk today. The fresh air will do me some good,” Piers shrugs.

Chris stares at him again, the sincere look on Piers’ face making him shrug in defeat, “Alright, suit yourself.”

Piers is kicking himself in the ass for not letting Chris drop him off an hour or so later, especially when he has to drag himself up four flights of stairs to get to his apartment. Leon is already back from work, bustling around in his bedroom as the Ace heads straight for the bathroom. He showers, the warm water helping him release the tension that has built in his muscles, tension the Sniper isn’t sure the origins of. Piers slips on a pair of loose sweats and a black sleeveless hoodie before he plops down on the couch and turns on the tv, not moving until his stomach growls. He orders pizza, feeling too lazy to dig around the kitchen for something to cook and goes back to slouching until a knock on the door signals the arrival of his dinner.

“Leon, the pizza is here!” Piers calls out after he pays the delivery man and kicks the door shut behind him.

“No thanks! I’m eating out tonight!” his roommate's voice carries through the walls.

Leon finally steps out into the hall, dressed in a nice pair of slacks and wearing a blue button up shirt that accentuates his lean figure really well. He has a green shirt in his other hand, holding it up for Piers to see.

“What do you think? Should I go with the blue one or the green one?”

Piers whistles, setting the box of pizza on the coffee table before he appraises Leon again, “First of all, where are you going?”

“Dinner,” Leon answers simply, stepping back into his room. Piers follows him in, seeing the mess made of the blonde man’s usually tidy space. Half of his roommate’s closet is on the bed, shirts and pants tossed around the bed and the floor.

Piers furrows his brows at Leon as he leans against the doorframe of his bedroom, “You’re leaving me too?”

Leon glances over his shoulder at the Sniper, a grin tugging at his lips, “What? Did your S.T.A.R.S friends forget about you? Serves you right for joining S.T.A.R.S instead of the police force with me.”

Piers rolls his eyes, stepping over the mess and plopping down on the end of Leon’s bed, “Who are you meeting for dinner?”

“Can’t tell you that yet,” Leon tells the Ace as he holds the green shirt up to his chest, considering which one looks better. At Piers’ silent stare, the blonde man opens his mouth again. “I can tell you she’s not your everyday woman. She’s mature and mysterious.” 

“Blue.”

“What?”

“Blue,” Piers repeats himself, gesturing at the shirt his roommate is already wearing. “It brings out your eyes.” Leon raises an eyebrow at his response. “It’s what people say, don’t they?” Piers shrugs in response. “What are you so worried about, anyway? You’re Leon Scott Kennedy. You had all the girls in high school drooling over you.”

“She’s older than me,” Leon supplies as if it would explain why he’s such a nervous wreck. 

It does spark Piers’ interest, the Sniper sitting up and practically dangling on the edge of Leon’s bed, “No way. Where did you meet her?”

“Can’t really tell you that either,” Leon answers, tossing the green shirt on the bed. He looks himself in the mirror again, making sure his shirt is free of wrinkles and that every strand of hair is in place before he turns to face Piers. “So? Am I ready to go?”

Piers narrows his eyes at his friend, wanting more answers, but he nods, knowing Leon won’t spill the details until he’s ready, “You’re gonna sway her off her feet.”

Leon grins, stuffing his wallet into the back pocket of his dress pants before he grabs his suit jacket. Piers follows him out into the living room, the blonde man taking a moment to toss a final comment over his shoulder before he’s out the door, “Don’t wait up for me.”

“Wasn’t planning to,” the Sniper answers, the door shutting before Leon probably heard his remark. 

Piers lets himself fall back onto the couch, the movie playing on the TV screen drawing no attention from the Sniper as he leans over and grabs a slice of pizza. He has no idea what is going on in the movie, having missed a good portion of it by now, but the Ace hadn’t been really watching it to begin with. The Sniper lets the lights dance across the darkening living room as he sinks into the couch, making himself comfortable for a long night.

Piers hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep until he’s startled back into consciousness. The sound of wood scraping against tile followed by a heavy tumble is what wakes Piers, the Ace jumping out of his skin when he realizes something, no someone, just fell onto his coffee table, knocking the box of pizza and movie cases to the floor. Chris is there, sprawled on his living room floor.

Back flat against his couch, Piers tries to catch his racing heart, “Chris? What the hell?”

“Yer door was open,” Chris slurs from his position face down on the Sniper’s floor, the smell of booze sticking to the uninvited guest.

“What?” Damn, that’s right. After Leon left, he hadn’t bothered locking it, but he hadn’t expected a drunk Chris to literally come stumbling into his apartment, no, more like falling into his apartment.

“I knocked, but ya’ didn’t open,” the marksman explains, lifting his hand from the pizza he squashed under his arm. He makes a face at the smear of cheese and sauce. “Sorry,” he adds, but the Sniper isn't sure if he’s referring to barging into his house uninvited or for making a mess on his living room floor.

Piers rolls his eyes, wondering if he’d be a bad friend for simply kicking him back out even though the guy is drunk, the marksman having trouble keeping his head up. He settles for being compassionate for once. 

“C’mon,” the Ace says as he slides off the couch and helps Chris back up to his feet, leading him to the bathroom. “Clean up,” he instructs, scrunching up his nose at the smear of cheese and tomato sauce on Chris’ arm. He leaves the marksman to it, heading to the kitchen to grab his cleaning supplies from under the sink before setting to cleaning up the mess Chris had made.

A few minutes later, just as Piers straightens out the coffee table, he hears the bathroom door shut before he sees Chris wander across the hall and into his kitchen. 

“Ya got any booze in here?” the marksman calls out, the sound of cabinets opening and shutting meeting the Ace’s ears next. 

“Beer in the fridge, but it’s not mine,” Piers answers before he adds. “Haven’t you had enough? You went to a bar tonight, right? With Jill?”

Piers hears the fridge for a few moments before it shuts, followed by Chris’ simple response, “Yup.”

Piers furrows his brows, “Then where is she?”

Chris takes a few moments before he answers, “Home. We hit the bar for a little then I came here.” 

That’s it? You’d think Jill would seize the opportunity, but then again, Chris is being pretty vague.

“Why?” the Sniper finds himself asking, pushing himself to his feet.

“Wanted to check on ya,” Chris offers as an explanation, but it only confuses the Sniper even more. 

“I’m fine. Shoulda kept your good night going.”

“Yeah, she’s fun to hang out with,” Chris says followed by a “Hell yeah!” that makes the Sniper furrows his brows in question.

Piers picks up the cleaning supplies and walks in the kitchen just as Chris had been walking out, a bottle of alcohol and two shot glasses in his hands.

“Found the good stuff,” Chris grins.

“That’s Leon’s,” Piers answers, putting the cleaning supplies back under the sink before turning to face the marksman.

Chris shrugs, “It’s ours for tonight.” At the Ace’s pointed look, the marksman breaks out into a grin, “Loosen up, Piers!” Chris laughs before he walks into the living room and sets the alcohol on the coffee table, sliding over to the stereo beside the TV, turning it on. “Oh, this is my jam!” he says to the song that had already been playing.

Chris grins, spinning on his heels before he starts shimming side to side to the beat. Piers has never heard it before, but he can’t deny how the marksman really likes it, leaning against the frame to the kitchen and watching the older man dance so badly that he might as well have two left feet. A chuckle escapes Piers’ lips, catching the marksman’s attention.

“What are you still doing down there?” Chris asks, stepping towards the Ace and extending his hand. “C’mon, it’s dancing time.”

“No way,” Piers shakes his head, eyeing Chris’ hand as if it’s the plague.

“You don’t play MC Hammer and not dance,” the marksman grins, hand still outstretched and waiting for Piers’.

The Sniper takes a step back, but a grin of his own play on his full lips, “You’re drunk.”

“Then just humor this drunk guy.”

“You sound pretty coherent for a drunk guy,” Piers quips, playfulness hiding in his tone.

“I’mma heavyweight,” the marksman shrugs, still waiting for the Sniper to take his hand. 

The grin on his lips widen when the Ace sighs and puts his hand in the marksman’s, the older man pulling him away from the kitchen and across the living room, guiding him around the coffee table.

With the terrible way Chris dances on his own, Piers really shouldn’t have expected the older man to do any better, much less when he qualifies dancing as swinging the Sniper around the living room, going in all directions, literally tossing the Ace around. Chris enthusiasm is contagious, his laughter infecting Piers as he practically goes round and round in circles with Chris. 

“Chris! Do you even know what you’re doing?” the Sniper asks between his laughter, trying hard to keep with the marksman.

“Nope!” Chris laughs, leading Piers around, the Ace stumbling over his feet. 

It’s crazy and wild, but that doesn’t wipe the smile off the Sniper’s face. Chris pulls him in, Piers stepping on his feet and muttering a quick apology that the marksman laughs off.

“Slow down!” the younger man tries, but it’s half-hearted, not really wanting to stop even though by the now they’re just jumping around, hand-in-hand and stumbling over each other.

Piers steps on Chris’ foot again, trying to catch his breath as a crazy idea strikes him. Bare feet find the marksman’s sock clad ones, stepping on them in an attempt to make him stop.

“Piers,” Chris snorts, holding on to the younger man in an attempt to keep his balance as both of the Sniper’s feet mount Chris’, like a young child would stand on their parent’s feet, bodies barely pressed together at the proximity.

“Slow down,” Piers chuckles, glad when he manages to make Chris do just that, but the older man is anything but stubborn and he still tries to keep dancing. He wraps one arm around Piers’ waist to keep them both from tumbling to the floor, pulling Piers closer to his body, his other hand clutching the Sniper’s, attempting to continue dancing with Piers on his feet.

Piers puts his focus on balancing on Chris, letting the older man move them across the living room into what has turned into an awkward slow dance, face practically tucked into the crook of the marksman’s shoulder. It takes him a moment to realize the song they had been dancing to had long ended, a slow rhythm filtering through the speakers. The Sniper glances up at Chris, intent on telling the older man that the song is over, but the words catch in his throat when hazel meet with captivating light blue mere inches from his own, already staring intently into his own.

Chris is close. So close that Piers can feel his breaths puffing against his face. He can see the beads of sweat that run down the older man’s temple, practically smell Chris as he realizes that their bodies are flush together, the marksman’s arm wrapped around his waist and keeping him close as he continues to steadily move to the slow beat, still carrying Piers’ weight on his feet.

Piers feels heat rush to his face, blinking and seemingly breaking the spell as Chris swallows thickly, clearing his throat before he stops, releasing his hold on the Sniper’s waist to allow the younger man to step away. The music is still playing, but evens so, the silence is almost palpable, Piers unable to meet Chris’ eyes as he wills his churning stomach and sweating hands to stop.

“Um,” Chris tries to break the silence, glancing at the forgotten alcohol still sitting on the coffee table before he turns to Piers. “Let’s play a game.”

“Sure,” Piers answers immediately, anything to make the awkwardness go away.

“Let’s play 20 questions, but my way,” the marksman nods, stepping over to the coffee table before plopping down on the floor.

“What’s your way?” the Ace emphasizes, following the older man’s lead and sitting on the floor across from him.

“I get a minute to ask you as many questions as I can and you have to be truthful. Then you get a minute to ask me. Whoever gets the closest to twenty questions wins,” Chris explains, grabbing a glass and pushing it across the table towards Piers.

“Wins what?”

“Er...I don’t know. Whatever you want. Just name it, I guess,” Chris shrugs. Piers takes that as enough, nodding his compliance as Chris pours their glasses. “Alright, why don’t I start?”

“Wait, what if I don’t want to answer?”

“Then you take a shot,” the marksman grins, glancing at the alcohol before meeting the younger man’s eyes.

“Alright,” the Sniper nods, Chris glancing at the clock on the wall before he starts.

“What’s your favorite color?” the marksman asks, resting his back against the couch and getting comfortable.

Piers raises an eyebrow at Chris, probably not expecting such a simple question, but he answers none-the-less, “Green.”

“Favorite food?”

“Steak.”

“Alright, let’s change it up a bit,” Chris mutters to himself. “Greatest fear?”

Piers takes a moment to think on that one, pursing his lips before he answers, “Ball Pits.”

“What is -” Chris cuts himself off, furrowing his brows when he processes what the Ace had said. “Ball Pits? Like, the ones kids play in?”

“You ever been in one of those? It’s like drowning, but worse,” the Sniper shrugs in response.

“Seriously?” Chris can’t help but chuckle, shaking his head. “Alright, fine. Next question, why’d you join S.T.A.R.S?”

“Hm,” Piers hums, hazel flickering to the glass of alcohol in front of him before he looks back up at Chris, bottom lip tucked between his teeth before deciding to answer, “You.”

“What?” the marksman blinks, Piers tossing his head back, a shot going down his throat in response. “No, really, what does that mean?” Chris tries again, Piers hiding the shy grin behind his glass, filling it again before taking another shot. “Piers.”

“Your minute is almost up,” the Sniper shrugs, not budging on his decision to not elaborate on that slip of his tongue. “You gonna waste the rest of the time on a question I’m not gonna answer?”

Chris purses his lips, light blue eyes narrowed at his companion before begrudgingly pushing on, “Any siblings?”

“Nope,” Piers shakes his head. “Only child.”

“You a virgin?”

The Sniper opens his mouth before he clamps it shut, eyes widening for a moment as a blush creeps up from his neck to his cheeks and all the way up to his ears. “Well that’s hella forward,” Piers flushes before another shot of alcohol burns a trail down his throat to his stomach, avoiding eye contact with the marksman and trying to ignore the devious grin plastered on Chris’ face. 

“Not gonna answer me?” Chris snorts, wagging his brows.

Hazel catch sight of the clock on the wall, “Minute is up!” The Sniper grins, setting his glass back on the coffee table, “My turn, what’s your greatest fear?”

Chris doesn’t miss a beat, “Losing Claire.”

Piers nods, the answer something he may have been able to deduce on his own before moving on to his next question, a sly grin sliding onto his own face. “You ever kiss a guy?” he asks before he snorts, answering his own question. “Oh wait, course you have. The captain.”

Chris playfully rolls his eyes, “Alright, keep ‘em coming, funny boy.”

“Are you a virgin?”

Chris stills for a moment, glancing at the glass in his hand before he decides to just take the plunge and answer, “No.”

Piers keeps his gaze trained on the marksman, “Who was your first time?”

That question warrants a tip of the marksman’s head as he downs the shot, Piers grinning mischievously at either having gotten the older man to drink or having gotten Chris’ cheeks to display such a nice shade of red.

Piers’ line of questioning doesn’t let up, Chris having to take a few more shots than he had been intending, and he returns the favor when it’s his turn again, the Sniper’s cheeks taking on their own color as he downs shot after shot as the questions grow more and more personal, all thoughts of the winner gone out the window.

It doesn’t come as a surprise when they lose track of time, neither of them hearing as Leon walks back in through the front door, but then in order for them to hear the man, they would have had to be conscious. Needless to say Leon comes home to find Piers passed out, his arm cushioning his head as his upper body leans across the coffee table and his guest, Chris, sprawled out on his back across the living room floor. Blue eyes almost hidden behind a blonde fringe zero in on the empty bottle of alcohol laying on the floor between them, thin lips pursing before he shakes his head.

“I’m not even gonna ask,” Leon mumbles to himself as he steps over Chris and makes his way into his bedroom.

Maybe if Leon is feeling merciful in the morning he’ll help them out with their hangovers. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Resident Evil no mine.
> 
> Author’s Note: Chris and Piers are just so perfect for each other, aren’t they? I managed to squeeze Leon into this and I’m wondering just who else I can put in this. XD
> 
> Thanks for reading and reviews fill my writing fuel!


	14. Chapter 13 - Present (2012)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present (2012)

The hand of the clock ticks noisily as the seconds pass by, resounding off the walls of the office and echoing around in Chris’ head, the man wondering just when his clock had been so loud or if he’s just never noticed before.

Chris Redfield isn’t one to keep his head out of work, but on this particular day, work is the last thing on his mind. The time he had taken off after Piers had been found is up and as captain of S.T.A.R.S, he’d been needed back at the office. Chris’ body may be seated in his chair, but his mind is back at the apartment. With Piers.

He’s all alone there. Claire had stayed for a few days before she had to go back home to Steve, promising to visit again soon. Jill herself also has a job and can’t take any more days off than Chris. She’s a S.T.A.R.S special agent needed by the city.

Elbows propped on the desk in front of him, brown eyes flicker from the bright screen of the desktop to his phone on the desk and then back again. If anyone had been in the office with him, they’d think he’s waiting for an important call, with the way his eyes keep flickering back and forth, in which he might actually be. No, he is waiting, just in case. He’s ready to pick up that phone in a heartbeat if it rings, one person in mind: Piers.

Piers has only been with him for a little over a week now. In the Captain’s opinion, that’s not enough time for the former Sniper to properly adjust. What if he needs something? No one is there with him. Chris chides himself for stressing over the younger man as if he were kid, but in many ways, he is. He’s still twenty-one. A twenty-one-year-old who is lost and finds himself in an unfamiliar world. A twenty-one-year-old that has vanished once before.

Chris sighs, the heel of his palms rubbing at his eyes to the point where he’s seeing stars behind his closed eyelids, anything to keep his hands busy and away from the phone lest he be the one to cave and call the younger man. He’s not going to get any work done, not today. The Captain knows that much. Too many years of searching for Piers has left him with the urge to look for him. To many years of not having him has left Chris with the urge to be sure that Piers is actually here to stay. He just needs to make sure Piers is still there. Needs to know he hasn’t just vanished and then maybe he’ll be able to get some kind of work done.

“Hello?” Piers’ voice filters through the speaker before Chris registers that he had picked up his phone and dialed the number for his apartment, the tension slowly leaving his body as he leans back in his seat and listens to the soft tenor that sounds so much more alive than any old recorded message Chris could scavenge.

It’s strange calling home when the only person who has ever been there is himself, but with Piers the one answering, the idea that it’s not unwelcome worms its way into his head.

“Hey, it’s me,” Chris speaks into the phone.

“Captain? Something wrong?”

There it is again. Captain. Ever since Piers learned he’s the new captain of S.T.A.R.S, the younger man has taken to calling him by that title. It sounds wrong on his lips, especially since to Piers the captain should be Wesker.

“Chris,” the older man corrects. “Would you just call me Chris?”

Chris can practically see the way the Sniper’s lips tug up into a small smirk, “No can do, Captain. Did you need something?”

“No, uh…,” the older man starts before he purses his lips, letting his mouth spew whatever comes to mind first. “I couldn’t remember if I turned off the stove. Can you check that for me?”

Piers probably knows that’s not the real reason Chris called, but the older man is grateful when he humors him regardless, “Yeah, sure.”

The nervous habit doesn’t go away after Chris hangs up. Half a report sits on his screen, what little he had managed to put together done between at least three coffee breaks, two trips to the bathroom, and several minutes of Chris fighting the desire to grab his phone and call Piers again.

He hates for feeling this way. For being so paranoid and distracted by the simple fact that Piers is back at his apartment alone and not beside him. He should be used to Piers not being there by now, especially with fourteen years’ worth of experience, but Chris just can’t shake it off. He just can’t get rid of the icy fingers of dread as they cling to his shoulders and whisper thoughts of Piers vanishing again. Of the younger man not being there when Chris goes back. Simply gone again for another fourteen years. Maybe even gone forever this time.

“The phone can’t write that report for you,” a voice snaps Chris out of his head, brown eyes flying up to the door to see Jill standing there, one hand on her hip as she regards the older man with penetrating blue eyes.

“Uh, no,” Chris agrees, wondering just when she had come in. He glances at his screen again and just can’t bring himself to write one more word. “It’s done. Well, almost,” he shrugs, pushing up from his chair.

Jill raises an eyebrow at him, “Really? Cause it seems to me like you haven’t done a thing all day.”

“Yeah, it’s good enough,” the Captain defends, pushing up from his chair. “I’ll just finish it tomorrow and bail out early today.”

“You do know that’s due in the morning, right?” the blonde agent reminds him.

Chris glances down at the screen and visibly deflates at the thought of probably having to stay to actually finish it. Chris Redfield is rarely early in the office and he debates just how much time he’d actually have to finish it if he did leave it for the following morning.

“Just go home,” Jill speaks up.

Chris glances up at her, brows furrowed, “But -”

“You said you’re done here, right? Then go home. Just get here early tomorrow morning and finish it then.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Chris pauses, glancing up at Jill again. “And you? Leaving too?”

Jill shakes her head, “Got my own report to submit and unlike you, mine is due today.”

“Alright,” Chris nods, rounding his desk before grabbing his phone, another question lingering in his head. “Are you...coming over?” He feels like he should ask since he’s genuinely not sure. Jill has been staying since the night Piers had been released from the hospital to his apartment. A part of Chris tells him that Jill has been staying less for Piers and more for him. For them.

The question however catches Jill off guard, who blinks at him before she answers, “Yeah.”

“Alright, I’ll make something for the three of us then,” Chris nods.

And just like that, the sparkle in Jill’s eyes are gone and she looks away with a resolute nod, “Alright.”

0o0

Thirty minutes later and Chris is pulling into his parking spot. He wills himself to take his time, to not let the irrational anxiety from before get a hold of him. Piers will be at the apartment, he tells himself. He won’t just disappear.

The key doesn’t want to work, refusing to fit into the lock until the Captain realizes he needs to turn it. Chris steps into the apartment, immediately greeted by silence save for the noise filtering from the living room. That sound puts the Captain at ease as he passes by the kitchen to the living room, expecting to find Piers there. Except he doesn’t.

“Piers?” Chris calls out, glancing around the room before rounding the couch and finding what he had been looking for.

Piers is there, curled up on the couch and asleep. A pillow is tucked in his arms, younger features partially snuggled into the pillow as his chest rises and falls with each breathe. Piers had been right when he said that Chris’ old clothes could still be big on him, the sweats the younger man is wearing low on his hips, slightly askew from the Sniper shuffling around in his sleep.

Chris releases a breath of his own, sitting on the armrest of the couch by Piers’ feet. Stupid, the captain thinks to himself as he pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. He hardly recognizes himself, rushing home the way he did. He rummages in his coat pocket for his lighter, flipping it open and lighting his cigarette. Brown eyes land on the TV, watching the images flicker across the screen, but he doesn’t pay it much attention, the shadows slowly creeping into the living room as the sun sets.

“I thought you would have quit by now,” Piers’ voice breaks the silence, brown finding hazel lazily blinking up at him.

“Did I wake you? Sorry,” Chris mutters, smoke wafting up in the air as the cigarette dangles from in between his lips.

“No,” the younger man rubs the sleep out of his eyes, shifting so that he’s on his back, the sweats ending up pinned under him and riding lower than before, the beginnings of coarse hair leading down to his crotch exposed. “Was I out long?” he mutters, the Sniper’s rough tenor makes Chris bite down on the end of his cigarette.

“I just came in,” the Captain lies. Piers doesn’t need to know that he’s been sitting here for the better part of an hour.

Piers hums before he’s sitting up, deft fingers reaching for the cigarette between Chris’ lips. He plucks it from the older man’s mouth and puts it between his own lips, disregarding the chewed up end as he takes a drag. Piers holds it for a moment, but the smoke escapes his mouth, a cough escaping his throat soon after.

A grin makes its way across Chris’ features, “I thought you would have gotten the hang of it by now.” He reaches forward, plucking the cancer stick from full lips to place it between his own again.

This feels so familiar. Similar. The memory comes back to Chris. That afternoon in the S.T.A.R.S office when he had caught Piers at his desk. He remembers gazing into hazel, just like he’s doing now. He remembers placing the cigarette between his own lips just after taking it from Piers, like he’s doing now. He remembers Wesker walking up to them and stealing a kiss from him right in front of Piers.

Piers lets himself flop back onto the couch, t-shirt riding up and exposing his belly-button and taught skin and the way down to his low riding sweats, leaving Chris to his habit. It takes him a moment before the Sniper furrows his brows, finally noticing something, or rather someone, who isn’t attached to the older man’s hip for once. “Where’s Jill?”

“At the office. Had a report she had to finish,” Chris answers, brown eyes tearing themselves away from the smooth skin of his torso to the younger man’s face.

“Oh,” Piers answers before he runs his fingers through his hair. “Barry came by.”

“Barry?” Chris furrows his brows, backtracking to any recent conversations with the man in his head. “He didn’t tell me anything.”

Piers shrugs, “Just dropped by.”

The first thing Piers had been painfully aware of is that for a man of fifty-two years of age, Barry is still freakishly strong. The man had almost crushed Piers in a hug, glad that the kid had finally appeared. He had gotten bigger over the years. Not as big as Chris, but for a man over fifty, he’s still packing muscle. Other than his thinning hair and coarse beard, Barry really hadn’t changed much. His kind eyes still reminded Piers of the same man he’d come to know in S.T.A.R.S.

A small smile tugs at the corner of Piers’ lips, recalling the afternoon, “The girls are so big. I almost didn’t recognize them.”

“He brought them by too?”

“No, pictures,” the Ace answers. “He also told me about Natalia. I wasn’t surprised he’d adopted another kid though. It’s just so like him.”

“Ah,” Chris nods, the TV and the end of the cigarette the only light in the room now. “Barry will forever be a dad, I guess. It’s his calling.”

Chris purses his lips, this talk about fatherly Barry reminding him of that favor Piers had asked of Claire. To see his parent’s graves. Why hadn’t Piers come to him? The question still bothers the Captain. Going ‘round and ‘round in his head in an attempt to figure out why.

“He told me he’s an adviser at S.T.A.R.S now. He likes it much better than being in the field, or so he says,” Piers continues, hazel trained on the TV for a moment before he glances back at the older man by his feet.

Chris shrugs, “What do you expect? He’s gotten old.”

“Can you tell me ‘bout the office?”

“Hm?”

“The S.T.A.R.S office. Has it changed?” Piers asks, propping himself up on his elbows behind him.

“Yeah, actually. We relocated to a new building a few years back,” Chris starts before he purses his lips. “Y’know what? How about I take you there one of these days?”

Excitement shines in Piers’ hazel eyes at Chris’ suggestion, “Really?”

“Sure, why not?

Unknown to the two, a figure lingers in the kitchen, quietly listening. She had come home much later than intended, even letting Parker hold her up at the office for a while longer. Yet Chris is still in his work uniform. There’s no food waiting for her, but Chris has been home, alright. He’s been home and it seems that he’s been too busy with other stuff. No, more like with someone else.

Chris pushes up from the couch’s armrest, glancing down at the younger man, “You hungry?”

Piers nods, “Very.”

“Let’s see what we can make then,” the older man suggests as he turns and heads into the kitchen.

Pulling his fridge open and sweeping over its contents with his eyes, Chris decides to check the cabinets. That’s when he notices the piece of paper sitting on the counter, rough fingers pulling it closer as he reads it, enough years of reading this handwriting aiding him in figuring out just who had written it.

I’ll be staying in my apartment tonight. Concise and to the point, that’s all Jill’s note says.

Chris furrows his brows, glancing at the front door and wondering just when the woman had come in and left the note. He pulls out his phone from his pocket, searching for her contact before bare feet pad into the kitchen, Chris glancing over his shoulder to see Piers walk up to him.

“Find anything?” the younger man asks.

Chris’ finger hovers the call icon before he sets his phone down, turning all of his attention to the Sniper, “I was thinking pasta or something.”

Piers shrugs before he grins, “You gonna cook?”

“Bet your ass I will,” Chris grins back, opening his cabinet to pull out a pan.

“Oh boy, I can’t wait to see this,” Piers chuckles.

“See? You’re helping me,” the older man grins in return. “Grab the pasta,” he indicates to the cabinet and Piers goes in search of it, both of them dancing around each other in the small space as they scrape together something worthy of being called dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: RE and its characters are not mine.
> 
> Author’s Note: And here is Chapter 13. It’s pretty slow and short, but then again this is a slow-build. I just think that Chris and Piers needed the time to really adjust to the recent changes in their lives. I hope it was still a good read!


	15. Chapter 14 - Past (1998)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Past (1998)

He hates funerals. Hates sitting through the service. Hates watching as the casket is lowered into the ground. Hates the smell of stale flowers as the scent attacks his nostrils, accentuated by the heavy atmosphere. He hates the sound of loud sobbing, especially from those who just sound so miserable.

Yes, Chris Redfield really hates funerals to the point where his cynicism seems to be his only companion as he fidgets in the plastic chair. He’s tired of sitting already, tired of the heat making his suit feel more suffocating than it is. His nimble fingers fiddle with his tie for what must be the fifth time that afternoon, tugging it to the point where the knot is almost undone.

He understands the need to pay his respects. He understands the desire to say goodbye, but the marksman has never been one for funerals. He doubts anyone is. Everyone has grim faces and those who aren’t staring blankly at the procession are wiping tears out of their swollen eyes.

Chris’ fingers find his tie again, futilely trying to tug it loose while he let his eyes roam the crowd. There are only a handful of people he knows. Jill, sitting three seats down in his row. Barry somewhere behind him. Forest and Brad are in the row in front of him. The rest of Alpha and Bravo are here too. All wanting to pay their respects to Edward Dewey, S.T.A.R.S sniper and dear comrade.

“He was a kind man, always looking after those he cared about, his family and friends,” Edward’s sister addresses the crowd, the microphone shaking so hard in her hands that her husband has to step up beside her and hold her hand. It gives her the resolve to go on, even as she chokes back sobs threatening to rip from her throat.

The words are carried by the wind as the casket is lowered into the ground, Chris’ wandering eyes finally landing on the one person he has been trying to find since earlier that afternoon, Piers. He’s standing in the back, far enough that Chris wonders if he can even hear the eulogy, but at the same time he knows the feeling of not being able to take a step closer. Of being just close enough while still being miles away, mentally and physically. After all, he himself couldn’t bring himself to stand mere feet from his parent’s caskets.

Edward had taken a shine to the rookie, taking his time to offer tips with the rifle almost daily for the past six or so months Piers has been part of S.T.A.R.S. The guy practically took the rookie under his wing and the rookie had basked in the attention.

Chris can’t help but study Piers’ face, the way his hazel are downcast towards the ground, lacking their shine. Full lips are past their usual pout and into a deep frown, his skin looking pale despite how humid the day is. It’s a strange contrast since Chris can also see the beads of sweat that roll down his temple, running a trail down his neck and disappearing under the collar of his suit. The very nice suit that frames his lithe body in all the right ways, sharp shoulders leading down to the now only Sniper’s small waist. Is it wrong to think he looks good in that suite, even at a time like this? Chris blinks, mentally chiding himself for letting his mind wander that far away.

The marksman’s view of the Sniper is obstructed when the people who had originally been sitting stand up, some stepping forward to toss flowers down into the grave, but Chris’ blue eyes remain in the direction where he knows the Ace is, except when he stands and gets a better view, Piers’ isn’t there anymore.

Chris excuses himself and steps out of his row, catching sight of Piers making his way across the cemetery in the opposite direction. His feet trail after the younger man on their own accord, swiftly walking in an attempt to catch up with the retreating Sniper.

“Hey, where are you going?” Chris calls out, grateful when Piers’ own purposeful strides come to a halt. “The funeral isn’t over yet.”

“I can’t stay. I don’t even know what I’m doing here,” Piers shrugs weakly before he half turns around, meeting the marksman’s gaze.

Chris purses his lips, “Piers -”

“Just drop it. I don’t want to hear it from you too,” the Sniper cuts him off with a shake of his head, tucking his hands in his pants pockets and hunching into himself, looking so much smaller than the older man has ever seen him.

“It’s not your fault,” Chris continues regardless, but the Ace is having none of it.

“I let him die, Chris. If I had just taken the shot. If I hadn’t hesitated…”

It’s Chris’ turn to interrupt the younger man, “You can’t blame yourself for what happened. You were following orders. We all were.”

“I should have taken the shot,” Piers repeats, the tone in his tenor a testament to how many times he must have told himself those words since the mission that would turn out to be Edward’s last.

It was supposed to be pretty straightforward operation, but in the end it cost Edward his life. Their objective had been to capture an international arms dealer. They had done their homework, knew their target and his usual force, but there had been one unfamiliar face, a new addition to his personal guard. A tall, built man with biceps bigger than a normal person’s head. Blonde hair slicked back, exposing his prominent features. He had been fast and skilled. All it had taken was one shot from Edward and the man had pinpointed his location and with deadly accuracy, he had shot in the senior Sniper’s direction. The new guard threw everything on its head, the arms dealer managing to make an escape with the guard, leaving S.T.A.R.S with one member less.

Piers eyes are staring at the ground again as if he wishes it would swallow him whole, “I was there. I should have done something.”

“You know this line of work is dangerous,” Chris states, taking a heavy step closer to Piers. “But you can’t blame yourself for this. Every time we go out there, it’s a risk, a chance we take.” Chris reaches out to Piers, grabbing his upper arm, making hazel finally meet blue and see the fear hidden behind the marksman’s orbs. “Next time it might be me. It might be you.”

“Chris,” the Ace breathes out, the marksman stepping closer until he’s breathing the same air as the younger man, leaning his forehead on the Ace’s and staring intently into mesmerizing gold and green irises.

Chris waits for Piers to say something more. Waits for him to pull away or put up any kind of protest, but the Sniper just stands there, letting warmth seep between them from where they’re touching at their foreheads. The marksman feels as if his heart is leaping into his throat as he licks his lips, suddenly feeling parched and hot and sweaty.

“Which is why we shouldn’t wait,” Chris mutters before he closes the distance, tilting his head and finding full lips.

It’s soft, just a press of mouths as Chris tries not to push the younger man and almost instantly, as if shocked, Piers pulls away, stumbling backwards and only steadied by the grip the marksman still has on his upper arm.

“W-what are you doing?” Piers stutters, heat blooming across his cheeks all the way up to his reddening ears, wide eyes begging for an explanation.

“Piers, I- I don’t know. It’s just that when I’m with you, everything feels right,” Chris tries, searching and failing to get his scrambled head and fluttering stomach to calm down.

Piers shakes his head, eyes glancing to the funeral procession for a long moment as if searching for something before he furrows his brows, meeting Chris’ eyes with his own hardened gaze, “You just want comfort.”

“What? No,” Chris instantly protests.

Piers takes a step back, pulling his arm free from Chris’ grasp, shaking his head again, “I can’t...I can’t comfort you. I’m sorry.” With that, the younger man turns around, hurriedly trying to put some distance between them.

“Piers, wait -” a hand on Chris’ shoulder stops him from trailing after the Sniper again, a solid chest meeting his back and preventing him from stepping away.

“If it’s comfort you want, then you know where to find it,” a sharp voice coos into Chris’ ear, the marksman not having to turn around to know who it is.

Wesker wastes no time offering his services, lips grazing the shell of Chris ear before he trails kisses down his neck, sending shivers down the marksman’s spine, but not the good kind. He doesn’t want this man’s lips. He wants the soft, full ones that had been frozen in shock. The ones that belong to a certain Piers Nivans.

Chris grunts, pulling away from Wesker, “Stop. I don’t...I don’t want this.”

Wesker keeps a firm grip on his shoulder, pulling him back in, but Chris is having none of it as he twists and forcefully pulls himself away, taking a few steps away before turning around to level a glare at the blonde man. Chris’ reaction had not gone over well with Wesker if the scowl painted on his sharp features is anything to go by.

“I don’t want you. Not after what you did. All the lies, the betrayal. Not ever again,” Chris hisses, not phased with the way the S.T.A.R.S captain’s body is tense, looking ready to uncoil and unleash on the marksman. The only time hindering Wesker is the potential for witnesses.

With that, Chris brushes past him, marching back to the funeral procession and leaving an angry Wesker in his wake. Before, Chris would have done anything to get the blonde man back, despite what he did. But now, Chris can’t think of anyone but Piers.

0o0

Chris keeps his distance for the next week, partly due to his desire to respect Piers’ mourning even though every time the Sniper is nearby, the older man itches to reach out and comfort him. The other part has to do with his inability to figure out what his next move should be. He had kissed Piers and the younger man had reacted by pulling away. Comfort. That’s what the Ace thinks Chris wants, but that’s not it at all.

Chris chides himself over and over again about how he really should have timed that better, but all he had been thinking about was how tomorrow isn’t promised. About how their job often puts them in the line of danger, that fact painfully proven by a death of one of their own. About how he wouldn’t be able to stand it if Piers were hurt or worse, killed. About how he shouldn’t waste time.

Unfortunately, time doesn’t stop and wait, and neither does life. Before Chris knows it, three weeks have flown by and another major operation has reared its head. They had been able to pinpoint the location of a big fish in the crime world, a wanted terrorist with multiple charges that puts him high on the list of felons for S.T.A.R.S to focus on bringing in.

Piers is the top sniper now, Chris’ heart hammering in his chest as he watches Piers leave his side to go find a spot to cover them. Chris wants to touch him, wants to grab him by the shoulder and tell him to wait, tell him something. Piers is gone from his sights by the time the marksman can decide.

The assignment is going as planned until he shows up. The unfamiliar face from the operation that claimed Edward’s life. The mercenary for hire know now as Jack Krauser. Chris hears the sharp intake of breath from Piers through his earpiece and he knows the Sniper has his sights on the mercenary. They all do. Strong fingers dig into Chris’ shoulder, Wesker keeping him in check without saying a word, but this time it isn’t Chris who recklessly jumps head first into danger - it’s Piers.

Krauser is a demon. A man with experience under his belt who plays no games with his victims. The moment the operation begins, the mercenaries physical and intellectual prowess had stolen the show, the blonde man shoving his charge out of the way and firing back at the officers.

There is a reason S.T.A.R.S exists. For people like this. The best of the best, but the thing is, S.T.A.R.S is also composed of the cream of the crop, and that’s proven when a single bullet pierces Krauser’s hand, the gun falling out of his grip, clattering noisily onto the pavement.

Krauser’s sharp eyes take only a split second to land on the S.T.A.R.S sniper’s position, bricks settling in Chris’ gut as the moment of Edward’s death plays in repeat in his mind. To the marksman’s relief, the mercenary turns, covering his employer as he tries to make an escape, but that relief is short lived as a muffled curse that sounds a lot like “He’s not getting away this time,” rings in Chris’ earpiece, the marksman’s eyes widening when he sees Piers jump up to his feet, his rifle tight in his grip.

“Piers!” the name echoes and it takes Chris a moment longer than necessary to realize it’s his own voice that had ripped from his throat.

The marksman forces his legs to move, leaving his post and diving across the area despite the hailstorm of bullets flying back and forth between the opposing groups, the distinct hiss of his own name from Wesker’s lips as Chris recklessly chases Piers.

Shit. Is this what it if feels like to the rest of the team when he charges in headfirst? This feeling of lead settling in the depths of his stomach, of his heart constricting to the point where every breath he takes feels as if he has glass lodged in his throat all the way down to his lungs. He hates it. He hates it so damn much.

Chris rounds the corner just in time to see the hulk of a man that is Krauser turn around, Piers just a few feet ahead of the marksman as the Sniper raises his rifle and barely takes a moment to aim before he’s pulling the trigger. Krauser lunges at Piers in that moment, the bullet knicking him on the shoulder as his body collides with the much smaller man’s, tackling Piers to the unforgiving pavement.

“Piers!” Chris shouts, dashing forward and ramming into the mercenary’s side with all he has, lodging the man off the Sniper as they both go tumbling to the ground in a frenzy of limbs and curses.

Krauser rolls onto the heels of his feet, gun up and at the ready, Chris’ breath catching when the mercenary pulls the trigger but nothing happens. It’s empty. Krauser releases a string of curses as he pulls out his knife instead, the sharp edges catching the light of the sun.

On instinct, Chris pulls out his own blade, fingers tight around the hilt as his body tenses, watching Krauser study every inch of his body as he does the same. The marksman barely registers Piers pulling himself up to his feet behind him before he’s charging forward, Krauser doing the same.

Chris can hear his blood pumping loud and strong in his head, knives clashing before he ducks and avoids a swing from Krauser. The marksman retaliates with a slash of his own, cutting deep into the bigger man’s forearm. That is not nearly enough to take the mercenary down as he simply charges forward, shoulder ramming into Chris’ chest and sending him sprawling across the pavement onto his back. The only sign the marksman gets is the blockage of the sunlight as Krauser hovers over him, a split second to roll out of the way before the mercenary’s knife is digging into the pavement with a force Chris doesn’t doubt could split his head open.

A bullet flies over Chris’ head, imbedding itself in Krauser’s arm, the man snarling in pain and leveling a glare at Piers. Chris takes the moment of distraction to sweep his leg under Krauser, the bigger man’s sturdy legs giving way as he topples backwards, hitting the pavement. The marksman pulls himself onto his feet, knee digging into Krauser’s chest as his blade presses into the skin at the mercenary’s neck. Krauser’s eyes are wild, anger seeping off his body, but he’s not stupid and knows when he’s pinned, eyes flickering to the side where sure enough Piers has him in his sights, his sure aim guaranteed not to miss at such close range.

If Krauser still had any fight in him left, it flies out the window when Barry and Jill round the corner, guns raised and trained on the dangerous hulk of a man pinned to the ground under Chris’ weight. It’s surely gone by the time Krauser realizes Wesker has detained his charge as well. It’s over.

0o0

It’s a surprise the walls of the S.T.A.R.S office aren’t melting with the anger that had been rolling off in waves from the captain. Stupid. Reckless. Imbeciles. Thick-headed idiots. Those are just a few of the insults Wesker had to say. The operation had been a success, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that both the marksman and the Sniper had stepped out of line, following their own agendas that could have backfired horribly or worse, put the team in danger. Wesker has every right to chew their heads off and then some and when he calls Piers into his office for a private talk, Chris can’t help but wince on behalf of the younger man.

Chris waits, however. He sits there at his desk as the rest of the team one by one leave for the night. Wesker doesn’t yell, but he raises his voice and that’s enough to strike fear into anyone who had dared cross the older man. The marksman is honestly worried for the Ace. He himself has taken his fair share of tongue-lashing from the captain, but this is Piers’ first time.

Chris pushes back his chair and stands up when he sees the door to Captain Wesker’s door open, Piers stepping out looking pale like a ghost, but the fire in his eyes is still ever present. The Ace spares him a glance before he gathers his things from his desk and makes his way out.

Chris hastily grabs his own jacket before breaking into a jog and trailing the Sniper, catching up to him in the parking lot, “Piers.”

Piers continues walking, shoulders drawn into himself as he answers without turning around, “Save it. I already got a tongue lashing from the captain.”

“That was stupid and reckless,” Chris states regardless, feeling like a hypocrite for even uttering the words at the Sniper since he himself is known for jumping right into the fray without a second thought, but he can’t help it. This is Piers. He could have gotten hurt, or worse, killed, and the thought makes the marksman’s stomach twist painfully.

Piers spins on his heels so fast that Chris almost walks into him, stumbling back to put space between them as sharp hazel narrow at him. “Would you have let him go? Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same!” the Sniper’s voice raises, bordering on yelling, but Chris keeps his composure.

He’s gorgeous when he’s angry. It’s the only thought going through Chris’ mind although he knows it shouldn’t be, but he can’t help it. Piers’ eyes look more alive now than ever, sparkling with fury and hidden emotions swimming behind the hazel orbs. His brows are furrowed, full lips twisted into a snarl and yet he still looks so beautiful, standing under the dim glow of the street lamps and panting, no, shaking with anger. This is Piers, witty and sharp tongued. So passionate and reckless.

“I’m not saying you were wrong, but I’m not saying you were right either,” is Chris’ simple reply. “Yeah, I would have done the same.”

The marksman’s confirmation seems to quell the Sniper for a moment, Piers’ snarl returning to its usual pouty place before he makes to turn away, Chris’ hand shooting out to grab him by the shoulder.

“Come home with me,” Chris says before he can filter his words. “You shouldn’t be alone tonight. You’re pissed and today was a pretty shitty day. Believe me when I say you don’t want to spend tonight alone with your thoughts.”

Piers stays silent, hazel studying Chris’ every move, following the marksman’s hand as it moves from his shoulder to reach for his cheek, a rough thumb brushing the smooth skin under the bruise forming from when Krauser had attacked him, prompting the Ace to flinch back.

“I can patch you up,” Chris continues, almost pleading. “Claire is staying with friends tonight. You don’t have to worry about her. Just say yes cause I’m not letting you go regardless.”

The Sniper watches him for a moment longer before he finally relents, nodding as he lets Chris lead him back to his truck. The drive is quiet, the Ace quiet and staring out of the window as the buildings pass them by. He still doesn’t say anything as Chris pulls up in his driveway, trailing after the marksman up the steps and into his place. The older man doesn’t bother flicking on the lights, a glance over his shoulder at Piers the only confirmation he needs that the Sniper is following him. He pauses for moment to shrug off his jacket, kicking off his boots as Piers does the same before maneuvering down the hall, Chris leading the younger man to the bathroom.

Chris does flick on the lights this time, rummaging under the sink for the first-aid kit, gesturing for the Ace to step into the bathroom with him. Piers leans against the bathroom sink beside the older man after he has what he had been looking for in his hands, hazel not really looking at anything.

“Sit,” the marksman instructs, gesturing to the toilet seat.

Piers shakes his head, opting instead to turn so that his back is against the sink. Chris doesn’t question him, placing the first-aid kit on the toilet and popping it open, rummaging through it for alcohol swabs. He turns to the Ace, taking a step closer before slowly raising his hands to Piers’ face, silently asking for permission even though the fight seems to have left the Sniper ever since they left the parking lot.

Chris starts with the bruise blossoming on Piers’ cheek, lightly dabbing at it and apologizing when the Ace responds with a wince. The Sniper’s delicate brows furrow, Chris’ eyes drawn from his cheek to the soft lines, the gold flecks in his eyes clearly visible with how close he is to the younger man. Chris finds himself studying his lashes, the curve of his nose down to the slight curl of his pouted, full lips. Piers is handsome. He can’t deny that fact, not that he wants to.

Chris follows the light bruising down his chin to his collarbone, the result of being impacted by a tank of a man like the mercenary. Chris puts down the alcohol swab, reaching for the bottom of Piers’ shirt before pausing, light blue glancing up to the younger man’s face. Piers’ face is carefully blank, hazel watching him work.

“Gonna check for bruises,” Chris offers, a small nod from the Sniper all he needs before he’s tugging Piers’ shirt free from his fatigues, gingerly lifting it up and over his head, revealing smooth flesh.

Piers is tense, the muscles in his abdomen prominently displayed as a result. He’s young and pretty lithe, but he has his muscle, the fact especially obvious in those arms he uses to steady his Anti-Material rifle. There is bruising on his side, most likely from when he had been slammed down onto the unforgiving pavement. Chris fingers lightly press, his touch lingering much longer than necessary, checking for any major damage, following the bruises down his waist to the top of the younger man’s fatigues. This time Chris doesn’t pause, deft fingers undoing Piers’ belt, the button to his pants soon following as the marksman makes it his objective to see the full extent of the bruising, though a part of him knows that’s not the only reason he’s pulling down Piers’ zipper.

Piers shifts on his feet, but he makes no other move as Chris slips the fatigues off his legs, letting them pool at the Sniper’s feet before the marksman’s hands are at his bare waist again, fingers hooking on the hem of the younger man’s boxer briefs before Piers’ finally reacts, hands flying up and gripping both of Chris’ wrists.

The action brings Chris back to his conscious mind, Piers’ fingers cold against his skin. It’s only then that Chris realizes how quiet the room is, the heavy breathing filling the space between them harder to discern. Is it him or is it Piers? The younger man’s chest rises and falls quickly, cheeks flushed red and full lips slightly parted as his gaze meets Chris’, and in that moment something just snaps in the older man.

The marksman surges forward, claiming Piers’ lips in a messy kiss, teeth clashing at the suddenness of it, but the older man isn’t deterred, hands sliding down from their position at Piers’ waist to his thighs, lifting him up onto the bathroom sink.

“Chris,” the name slips from Piers’ lips, but the marksman barely gives him a chance to say anything else before he is pressing himself between the Sniper’s legs and leaning in for another kiss.

Chris has never felt such desperation before, but even through his hasty lust, he recognizes that he should slow down. That he should wait, especially with the way the younger man is unresponsive in his arms. That goes out the window however when Piers finally responds, lips moving against the marksman’s as his arms come up to wrap around his neck, attempting to pull the older man even closer and deepen the kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: RE and its characters are not mine.
> 
> Author’s Note: Whew! Now this one was a lot of work but at least Chris and Piers are finally past the dancing around each other. Well, at least Chris for sure is.
> 
> So the next chapter is set in the present (Chapter 15), but the next one after set in the past (Chapter 16) might have some sexy time. I haven’t really decided yet since I have never written anything like that before. I have no idea how I’m going to handle it but I’ll do my best!


	16. Chapter 15 - Present (2012)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present (2012)

The steam rises from the mug cradled in Chris’ hands, his broad shoulders hunched forward as he rests his elbows on the table. For once in his life the captain is dreading going into work and it’s not because of who stays behind in the apartment alone for hours, but for who will be at the S.T.A.R.S office.

Jill. She’s been distant, professional partner to the letter. What’s worse, the captain can’t bring himself to talk to her. He wouldn’t know what to say to begin with. The older man doesn’t know what’s going through her head. No, that’s a lie. He has a very good idea that it might involve the hazel eyed Sniper who has popped back into his life without any warning, just like how he had disappeared from it - suddenly and without a trace.

Piers, on the other hand, seems to have painted a picture of Chris as some kind of hero. The legendary Chris Redfield with more successful missions under his belt than any senior member in S.T.A.R.S can attempt. Stories about how he single-handedly took down terrorists, guns blazing and the whole nine-yards one would find in action movies. The captain doesn’t understand how Piers can believe the ridiculous over-the-top stories, but then again, the newspaper is regarded as a reliable source for many.

Chris hadn’t done any of those things for recognition nor for the fame. Quite the opposite. He did it for his own selfish reasons. Throwing himself mission after mission, trying to make the hand on that clock move faster. Keeping himself busy had been the only way he could function for a while. Working to the point of exhaustion had been the only we he had been able to get any kind of sleep. Regardless, the newly appointed captain of S.T.A.R.S had quickly grown into a legend. A legend to the people of Raccoon that he had no trouble holding the image up for, but for those in the background who knew the man, it had all been an attempt to drag himself out of that dark abyss that had suddenly consumed his life that horrible night.

Jill had been there. Tried to help, but nothing could fill the void Piers had left behind. The Sniper is back now, and while there is still a feeling of emptiness in the older man, something Chris himself isn’t too sure of as to why, that dark shadow that had clung to him is slowly but surely slipping away. It releases him an inch whenever hazel orbs would find his, or when Chris’ stories of heroism would light up Piers’ face with admiration.

It’s something that Jill couldn’t do and the captain is aware that it’s a fact Jill has also come to realize.

“Mornin’,” Piers greets as he strolls into the kitchen, baggy pants dragging across the floor as he moves over to the counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Chris’ old clothes really are a little big on him, the captain making a mental note to get some that would fit Piers properly.

Chris hums in acknowledgement, mumbling his own “Good morning” as brown eyes watch the Sniper prepare some toast before he takes the seat at the table across from him, “You ready to go?”

“Hm?” the younger man responds around the piece of bread stuffed in his mouth, hazel glancing up to the captain.

“Come with me,” Chris simply adds, bringing his mug to his lips.

Piers pauses, crumbs sticking to the corner of his mouth, Chris fighting the urge to reach out and wipe it off his face, “Where?”

“I want to take you somewhere.”

This time, Piers just nods resolutely, “Ok.”

It’s as simple as that and it’s always been with Piers.

0o0

By the time Chris puts his truck in park, Piers’ tense jaw had already told the older man that the Sniper had figured out where he’s taking him. The building itself hasn’t moved after all, the old S.T.A.R.S building still standing as it did fourteen years ago, except this time the effects of time are evident. Needing maintenance and a good paint job, the building hadn’t been used after S.T.A.R.S had moved to the new one, the peeling paint and overgrown grass a testament to that fact.

Other than stepping out of the truck, Piers doesn’t move, feet cemented into the ground as he stares up at the building. Chris can't begin to imagine what must be going through his head, full lips drawn just as tight as his brows. The sound of the front doors squeaking on their rusty hinges brings the younger man’s attention back to the captain, Chris gesturing for Piers to follow him as he steps into the building.

The dust is thick in the air, eyes watering as Chris clears his throat, taking in the scent of what he’s sure must be damp walls and mold. The place is empty, cleared out and barren save for a few forgotten items and paper.

Chris pauses at the threshold to the office, glancing over his shoulder to watch Piers’ expression as it morphs from anxious to almost perturbed, the corner of his lips pulling downward. He seems cautious, careful even and Chris figures he would be too if in his mind he still expected this place to be a busy cluster of officers in and out of the office.

One thing is to be told. Another thing entirely is to see for oneself.

His boots are the sound in the room as Piers steps further in, hazel sweeping over the barren office as if he were looking at something, but there is nothing there. He slowly turns in the middle of the room, studying every crevice and corner of the former office and what it has become.

Chris remains silent, giving Piers the time he needs, burying his hands in the pockets of his pants.

“Your desk was right there,” Piers breaks the silence, stepping over to the wall, gesturing at the empty space. “And now you’re the captain of S.T.A.R.S in a new office.” The Sniper muses to himself for a moment before pointing to another empty space. “And Joseph’s was in front of yours.”

“He moved away,” Chris speaks up, Piers meeting his gaze. “Moved away a few years ago. Last we heard Joseph met some girl and settled down.”

The Sniper nods, glancing at the opposite wall, “Barry was over there. And Brad’s used to be behind of his,” Piers looks up at the captain expectantly, waiting to find out what has become of Brad.

Chris clears his throat, “He...there was a helicopter accident.”

The color drains from the younger man’s face, head ducking down for a moment, “Oh.” He runs his fingers through his hair then, most likely trying to compose himself before he’s meeting the older man’s eyes again. “And mine...mine used to be there,” he says before he bites his bottom lip, looking like he’s working up the courage to say something. “For how long? I mean...for how long was my desk there after I…”

“Till the end,” Chris answers, voice sounding hoarse even to his own ears, but there is no reason why his chest should feel so tight when Piers is back. He’s right here. Standing right in front of him. “It stayed yours...till the end.”

Piers swallows thickly, breaking eye contact to nod solemnly, understanding the unspoken meaning behind the captain’s words, reading it clear on the lines on Chris’ face. No one else had taken his desk. There had always been the hope that Piers would return to occupy it again. Someday.

The Sniper turns his attention to the doorway instead, not having to walk out to know what the other room is, “And across the hall was Bravo.”

Chris silently watches Piers, each direction and gesture mapping out the memory in his mind. It’s a memory for him, but for Piers, it must be the present. His reality. The world that had been robbed from him when he leaped through time, even if it might just be the Sniper’s head feeding him the wrong information. But what matters here is that Piers believes it. He believes that he somehow skipped fourteen years into the future and now, standing in the middle of the old S.T.A.R.S office he used to know, Chris can imagine how he might be feeling.

Alone. He himself knows what it is to miss something that is gone. To miss something and do everything in his power to find it, to get it back. Except for Piers, who doesn’t even know what’s happening himself, how is he supposed to try and get it back?

S.T.A.R.S is gone for both the Captain and the Sniper. Not the S.T.A.R.S that he’s captain of now, but of the S.T.A.R.S that started all of this. The one that took him in after he had been discharged from the Air Force. The one where he met Jill and Forest and Richard. The one where he met Piers.

Chris had been reluctant to bring Piers here. Possibly because this is also a part of his past that he had been trying to keep away. These halls had reminded him of Piers. The desk left untouched for days, months, years. The constant buzzing around the office about the missing Sniper.

This is his past. Covered in dust with the old paint peeling off the walls. And standing in the middle of this vacant, abandoned place is the one being who hasn’t been touched by time.

“This...was everything,” Piers breathes out, hazel finally finding Chris’ gaze and suddenly Chris isn’t too sure what the Sniper means by that.

For Piers, the life he had chosen started here. The life that he wanted to lead free from his family’s control. The life to discover who Piers Nivans is for himself rather than what he had been told to be, but Piers had also had his regrets. His uncertainty of whether or not running away from home and joining S.T.A.R.S had been the right thing to do.

Chris remembers that night. When they had sneaked into that kid’s entertainment center and Piers had almost drowned in the ball pit because of his irrational childhood phobia of them. He remembers pulling the younger man into his arms and listening to his story. Remembers asking Piers what he wanted, the one-word answer enough to make his heart skip a beat.

_You._

Piers’ decision to join S.T.A.R.S had been because of him. Piers’ decision to stay had been because of him. And right now, with those hazel staring into his brown, he knows Piers is here, right now, because of him.

“Piers,” Chris breathes out, but the younger man has a question of his own at the tip of his tongue.

“What happened to Captain Wesker?”

Chris purses his lips, the name still sounding like some kind of taboo in his own ears, but it’s a subject the captain has been itching to finally breach.

“He was a suspect in your disappearance,” Chris explains, baritone echoing off the barren walls. “Couldn’t find shit on him but that didn’t stop everyone from knowing he was guilty.” No, it didn’t stop Chris from knowing the man was guilty. “Under the pressure he resigned as captain.”

Piers slowly nods, taking in the information before hazel fly up when Chris steps over to him, “Piers, I need to know, did Wesker have anything to do with your disappearance?”

The Sniper’s eyes widen for a moment before he glances down at his boots, bottom lip tugged between his teeth. That’s enough for Chris.

“Piers, there is something, isn’t there? Something happened that night with Wesker?”

“It’s…”

“Piers, I need you to talk to me,” Chris urges, almost desperate as he grabs hold of the younger man’s arm, prompting Piers to finally look up at him. “Tell me, please.”

The younger man’s jaw is tense as he finally lets something slip from his lips, “He didn’t make me disappear. I mean, I myself didn’t even know fourteen years passed, but he did want me to disappear.”

Chris feels the anger churning in the pit of his stomach rise to his face. He knew it. He knew that bastard had something to do with this. “What did he do?” he grits out.

“Turned on me,” Piers says quickly, as if he had been aching to get the words out and now that he’s started, the rest rush out. “He had a crazy look in his eyes and he...pulled out his knife. I don’t know what happened after. I tried to escape him and I remember being knocked off my feet, but when I turned around, he was gone.”

Chris furrows his brow, “Gone? Just like that? Piers, could it be that you hit your head? Is that what you’ve been afraid to tell me? That this could be a form of amnesia?”

“No, Chris, I didn’t hit my head,” Piers frowns, sounding like he’s had to refuse that idea on more than one occasion, most likely from the doctors and investigators.

“Wesker could have knocked you out. Kept you locked away for fourteen years,” the captain tries to reason.

“Chris,” the younger man frowns, hazel narrowed up at him.

“I knew that bastard was behind all of this.”

“Chris!” Piers yells his name, snapping the older man from his hateful rant. “I didn’t hit my head, alright? I know it sounds like science fiction or something, but I didn’t lose my memory. I didn’t spend fourteen years locked away somewhere. I... wandered into the future. Skipped - whatever you want to call it. One minute I’m in 1998 and the next I’m in 2012.”

“That’s just...not possible,” Chris mutters, more to himself than to the Sniper, but Piers heard him clear enough.

“I’ve been told that by every single person I’ve come across, ok? I know it is, but you believe me don’t you?” Piers lifts his hand, fingers pressing to the side of his neck. “The hickeys, you gave them to me that very same day and I still had them. Fourteen years is a hella long time, Chris.”

Chris grits his teeth before releasing his breathe, “Yeah, I believe you.”

It’s impossible to say otherwise with those sharp hazel gazing into him like if he’s the only hope the Sniper has.

0o0

Chris pulls the doors closed before walking down the steps towards his truck, Piers already lingering in front of it, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. Chris reaches for the car door, pulling it open but pausing when he realizes the Sniper hasn’t moved to the passenger’s side, hazel eyes trained on the old S.T.A.R.S building again.

“Piers?”

At the sound of his name, Piers turns around, unwavering gaze meeting the older man’s, “I want to join S.T.A.R.S.”

Chris blinks at him, taking a moment to process the Sniper’s words, “What was that?”

“I want to join S.T.A.R.S,” the younger man repeats himself, walking around the front of the vehicle to the driver’s side, the car door the only thing separating them, “Let me join your team, Captain.”

The captain purses his lips, “Piers…”

“If it’s one thing I realized setting foot in there, it’s that my old life is gone, Captain. That much is painfully clear now,” the Sniper presses on. “I want to start my new life. I want to join S.T.A.R.S. It’s where I want to be.”

Chris furrows his brows, meeting Piers’ piercing gaze, “Are you even ready for that? I mean, do you really think joining S.T.A.R.S again is a good idea?”

“Of course I do.”

Piers’ jaw is tense, body rigid as he squares up the bigger man, not looking the least bit intimidated by Chris, but what speaks volumes is the fire burning behind those hazel orbs. Piers is serious and if Chris can read anything off his stance it’s that he’s not backing down.

The thing is, Chris isn’t so sure if joining S.T.A.R.S is the best thing for Piers. Not when the reason Piers had been out in Arklay Mountains that night in the first place had been because of a mission. Not when the former S.T.A.R.S captain himself had attacked him. Not when the job comes with its own risks, risks that the older man isn’t willing for Piers to take part in again.

No, Chris has lost Piers before. He isn’t willing to lose him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: RE and its characters are not mine.
> 
> Author’s Note: A bit of a throwback here for both Chris and Piers. It’s a pretty short chapter compared to others, but I think it carries its own weight. There are events hinted in this chapter that will be explained better in due time. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and please let me know if you like the story :)


	17. Chapter 16 - Past (1998)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Past (1998)
> 
> Special Note: This chapter starts with Chris and Piers in a sexual situation, but it’s not explicit, if it can even be called that. Regardless, if you don’t want to read it, you can skip down to the section break and you’ll still be able to understand the story. Enjoy!

Heavy breathing hangs in the air between them, Chris nudging Piers’ legs apart even further so that he can pull the younger man’s chest flush against his, arms tight around his waist as trails wet kisses down his neck, sucking hard on the soft flesh.

A low groan escapes Piers’ lips as teeth graze his heated skin, Chris immediately coming up to drink them in as his lips find the younger man’s again. Piers’ hands trail down the marksman’s sides, slipping under his shirt and letting fingernails rake up Chris’ back, the older man nipping on the Sniper’s bottom lip in response, tongue pushing past plush lips when Piers gives him access to his moist mouth.

“Chris,” Piers breathes out, breath hitching when he feels Chris rock against him, body trying to seek friction with the Sniper’s.

It’s hot, unbearably so, every little sound resounding in the small bathroom making his pants feel even tighter. Without warning, Chris firmly grabs hold of Piers’ thighs, lifting him up off the sink and into his arms, the younger man yelping in surprise before his legs wrap around Chris’ waist, arms doing the same around the marksman’s shoulders.

“Bedroom,” Chris offers as an explanation before he turns around and carries Piers out the door, doing his best not to bump into anything along the way, but it's hard with the Sniper nibbling on his earlobe, distracting him to the point the marksman considers dropping him to the floor and just doing it right there in the hallway.

Despite his racing heartbeat and hurry to kick his bedroom door open, Chris is gentle when he deposits Piers on the bed on his back, immediately pressing into him even though the younger man has yet to unwrap his legs from around the marksman's waist. It drags moans from them both, bodies thrusting against each other in a desperate search for pleasure.

Piers grabs the bottom of Chris’ shirt and pulls it up, the older man getting the hint and pulling away for the moment it takes to pull his shirt off his head and toss it somewhere across the room, a growl caught in his throat as he takes in Piers splayed out on his bed, sweat coating his smooth skin, face flushed and bruised lips, lust-filled hazel trained on his.

Piers unhooks his legs from around Chris’ waist, the marksman’s fingers tripping over themselves as he tries to undo his belt. He feels goosebumps blossom across his skin when the Sniper swats his shaky hands aside in favor of unhooking the belt himself, tossing it over the side of the bed before reaching for the button of the older man’s fatigues. Piers sits up then, lips attaching themselves to the marksman’s collarbone as he pulls down the zipper, Chris doing the rest and kicking off his pants and underwear in one go. The older man moans as Piers licks a trail down his chest to his abdomen, the heat going straight to his groin before he pushes Piers flat on his back again, fingers hooking at the waistband of the younger man’s underwear before pulling them down and leaving the Sniper completely bare underneath him.

Chris wants nothing more than to climb back over onto Piers and claim him, but his mouth is moving before he can stop himself. “Do you...do you want this?” he pants and he belatedly realizes it’s probably way too late to even ask the younger man this. He doesn’t think he could stop even if the Sniper has second thoughts about this.

To his relief, Piers nods, pink tongue darting out to wet his lips, “Yes, fuck, Chris, yes!”

Chris wastes no time climbing onto his knees at the edge of the bed, pulling Piers legs up and prompting the younger man to wrap them around his waist again, naked bodies flush together eliciting a moan from them both as sweaty, hot bodies press together.

Chris doesn’t think he has the mind for much else as he thrusts against Piers, the younger man meeting him with his own as strong arms wrap around the marksman’s shoulders, pulling him down close enough for their sweat slicked chests to meet as they continue to rock into each other.

Piers is panting into his ear, wantonly moaning above the sound of the mattress creaking under the force of their movements. Nothing else exist in this moment but the man moaning out his name, head tossed back and exposing that neck that Chris latches onto, sucking on the skin hard enough to leave marks. Nothing else exists but this moment of intense pleasure and the beautiful man underneath him begging for more.

0o0

The sunlight shining on his face is what drags Chris out of the depths of sleep. He rubs his eyes, rolling over onto his side and squinting at the window, his groggy brain failing to understand why the curtains are drawn open when he closes them every night. That’s when it clicks. He never got to. He had been busy with Piers.

The marksman quickly turns over, hand meeting nothing but cold sheets. Piers isn’t in bed with him. He sits up, glancing around the room. The bathroom door across the room is slightly ajar, Chris sliding his feet off the side of the bed and standing up in the hopes that the Sniper is in there. He wouldn’t just up and leave, would he? Not after the night they shared?

Chris pauses, his gaze landing on the floor by the foot of the bed where he sees the person he is searching for. Piers’ back is towards him, smooth bare skin looking tantalizing in the morning light, knees drawn up to his chest. The Ace must have heard him since he glances over his shoulder at Chris, flushing before he quickly turns away, the marksman belatedly remembering that he is very much standing stark naked. Chris grabs his sheet and wraps it around his waist, his own face feeling impossibly hot.

“You don’t mind do you?” Piers mutters, his voice barely above a whisper as if afraid to shatter the comfortable silence of the morning.

Chris isn’t sure if Piers is referring to the fact that he’s wearing one of Chris’ sweats that frankly sends heat down south at just the sight of him or something else, but when the Ace glances down at the mug of steaming coffee in his hands he gets his answer.

“No,” the marksman answers, slowly stepping around the bed and sinking down to the floor beside the Sniper, their shoulders barely touching.

Piers’ hazel are fixed on the dark liquid, but the marksman can see the hint of color dusting his cheeks. He half expected the Sniper to have been gone before he woke, but he’s still here. That’s a good sign, isn’t it? It means that he wants to talk. Wants to know what happens next and what they are now, right? Cause Chris sure does.

Chris reaches for the mug, taking it from Piers and bringing it up to his lips, feeling the Sniper’s sharp eyes watching his every move. He feels like he needs the caffeine. Like he must be awake and alert for this.

“About last night,” Chris finally starts, wracking his brain for the right words. “I’ve been wanting to do that to you for a while now.” Piers’ eyes widen, his face quickly turning so red it resembles a tomato and only then does Chris realize what exactly he just said. “No, I mean, the kiss. I’ve been wanting to kiss you,” the marksman backtracks before he’s shaking his head and placing the mug on the floor beside him. “Y’know what? No. That’s not right either.”

Piers’ furrows his brows, gaze flickering between his knees and the marksman and Chris knows he’s having trouble keeping up with his babbling, Chris himself is still trying to decipher his own jumbled thoughts. Maybe he should start where normal people do.

“I like you,” the older man blurts and the lump that had lodged itself in his throat finally stops messing up his words, the rest coming out now that he finally got it out in the open. “I like you a lot and I’ve been thinking about you. I’ve been wanting to kiss you and touch you and hold you. I just really like you, ok?”

Piers is silent for a moment, hazel staring into blue before he slowly nods. “Yeah?” the Sniper breathes out, the color rising in his cheeks making him look so young in the morning light. “I...me too.”

The words are like a drink of cool water on a hot afternoon, relief flooding the marksman as his blue stare into hazel.

“You do?” Chris can’t help but make sure, needing this more than he can remember ever needing anything else.

“Yeah,” Piers breathes out, sounding as if he might have had a lump lodged into his own throat, finally breathing easy again.

“Like me as in you want to spend every waking moment with me? And hold hands. Sappy stuff like that?”

“Yeah,” the Sniper’ lips quirk up into a smile, hazel looking brighter than Chris has ever seen them and he knows that his own face must mirror the younger man’s.

“And kiss me. Do you want to kiss me?”

Piers’ glances at Chris’ lips before he breathes out, “Yeah.” He leans forward then, the marksman meeting him halfway.

Unlike the night before, Piers is more demanding this time, nipping the marksman’s bottom lip. He lifts himself up, slinging a leg over Chris’ lap and straddling him. Chris’ hands find the Sniper's bare waist, the sheets he had been previously holding around his own body sagging and sliding down his waist. Piers’ sweats ride dangerously low on his hips as Chris grabs his thighs, pulling him in even closer, but the Ace's knee hits the coffee the marksman had placed down beside him, the dark liquid spilling out onto the floor.

“Shit,” Chris curses, grabbing the mug and lifting it upright in the hopes he can stop it from spilling every last drop, but it's too late.

Piers frowns apologetically, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, “You should clean that up.”

“Nah, it can wait,” he'd rather be locking lips with the gorgeous being on top of him and he does just that.

Piers’ plush lips are soft, fitting perfectly against the marksman’s as he kisses him with everything he’s got. This time, however, they’re forced to pull away by the sound of the front door shutting followed by a familiar: “Chris! I'm home.”

The Sniper pulls away from Chris, kiss swollen lips hard to resist as the older man leans up to claim them again, Piers letting him for a moment before pulling away, “You should get that.”

“Nah, she can wait,” Chris shakes his head, a smirk playing on his features.

“I don't think she can,” Piers chuckles, avoiding Chris’ hungry lips, but they find his neck anyway. “Chris,” the Sniper tries again, pushing him back by the shoulders to glance down pointedly between them. “You really want your sister to walk in here and see us like this?”

No. Either of them looking like sex is not what his sister needs to see.

Piers rolls off Chris, letting the marksman get up while he picks his own clothes off the floor. Chris rummages through his drawer, pulling out a shirt before glancing over his shoulder at Piers, the Sniper already having pulled off Chris’ sweats and pulling up his own fatigues, Chris only getting a teasing glimpse before his sister calls out to him again.

“Chris?” Claire’s voice sounding closer than before.

“Yeah, I’m coming!” the marksman answers before he stumbles, his shoulder slamming into the door.

Piers jumps at the sound, whirling around to glance at the marksman, “Are you ok?”

“Fine,” Chris grits out, pulling his pants over his hips and buttoning them before glancing over at Piers again, the Ace dressed and running his fingers through his bed hair in an attempt to at least try and make it look presentable.

Chris doesn’t even bother with his unruly mess, opting instead to open the bedroom door, stepping into the hall just as Claire rounds the corner. “Hey, you’re back early,” he greets as casually as he can manage.

Claire raises an eyebrow at her brother, sharp blue eyes taking in his messy appearance before shooting over to his bedroom, standing on the tip of her toes to try and see past his shoulder.

“Have a friend over?” the redhead inquires when her brother purposefully steps into her line of vision, brows quirked in amusement.

A small smirk tugs at Chris lips before he reaches into the room and grabs his guest, a muffled protest ensuing before Claire’s eyes widen when they land on the Sniper.

“Piers?” Claire blinks, glancing between him and her brother.

“Morning,” Piers nods sheepishly, his cheeks heating up as he averts his gaze from her. How is he supposed to look at Claire after fucking her brother just the night before?

Claire doesn’t miss the way Chris’ hand trails down from the Sniper’s elbow to his hand, intertwining their fingers before her brother shoots her a grin. Piers himself doesn’t miss the action, hazel glancing down at their connected hands before moving up to the marksman’s face.

“No way,” the redhead breathes out, her own lips twitching into a smile.

“Way,” Chris’ grin stretches impossibly wider before he turns to Piers. “He’s my boyfriend,” he states before his smile falters and he adds, “That is, if you want to be my boyfriend.”

Piers looks lost for words for a moment, hazel glancing between Chris’ expectant expression and Claire’s wide eyes, but then he relaxes and he looks like he knows exactly what his answer is, “Yeah, I do.”

“Finally!” Claire cheers, both fists pumping into the air. “Do you how long I have been waiting for both of you to stop being idiots and just get together?”

Claire’s statement draws her brother’s attention from his lover, “What?”

“I knew you guys would end up together. I just didn’t think it would take so damn long,” Claire says matter-of-factly before she turns on her heels and heads to the kitchen.

The fact that Claire is all for it is enough to make Chris smile for the rest of the month, in addition to his new boyfriend, of course.

Chris follows her into the kitchen, pulling Piers along. “You’ve only been here for the summer,” the marksman points out.

“Since the moment you mentioned him on the phone I knew you were smitten,” Claire shrugs playfully, pulling the fridge open and grabbing a yogurt.

“What? No way,” the older Redfield flushes, letting go of Piers’ hand to close the fridge when his sister steps away from it.

“And then on the first day I get here, he’s here visiting you. I saw all the signs, Chris. You were just oblivious as always. I just can’t believe it took you all of three months to get with him,” Claire grins matter-of-factly, grabbing a spoon from the drawer.

Chris grabs the spoon from Claire, tapping her on the forehead with it, “It hasn’t been that long.”

“May, June, July, - that’s four months and I’m not even counting the time before I arrived,” Claire counts off on her fingers before snatching the spoon back from her brother. “I was beginning to think I would go back to school before either of you finally made a move. I was about to start playing matchmaker.”

Piers watches the siblings interact, slipping into a stool at the counter. He’s glad Claire is alright with this, though he hadn’t thought there would be a problem, not that he had really thought about dating Chris per se to begin with. Chris is attractive, anyone can see that. He’s also loyal and steadfast, but there is something more that drew the Sniper to the marksman. Chris’ sense of justice. His bravery and desire to protect others.

Regardless, Claire’s the only thing Chris has left and the Ace doesn’t need to ask to know her approval means the world to Chris. He’s glad that he and the younger Redfield had hit it off really well. Heck, he can even say they’re friends.

Chris glances back at Piers, offering him an infectious smile that has the Ace smiling back. It’s a good morning. I really good one that Piers knows he will hold onto for a very long time.

0o0

Chris is at work first thing in the morning the following week. He made an effort to get to the station early, but apparently his early is everyone else’s late. The rest of Alpha is already there. Barry is at his desk, rubbing his face as if he hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before. He didn’t, not with two young daughters fond of making a ruckus. Joseph and Brad are in the break room, most likely getting coffee, and Wesker is locked away in his office.

The reason the marksman made an effort to be early for once, however, isn’t here yet. Piers. His boyfriend. He likes that title for the Sniper. He also likes to think that the reason said hazel eyed brunette isn’t here lies in the fact that Chris had wrecked him to the point of exhaustion. He likes the sound of that a whole lot more.

Jill greets him, like usual. Bright smile and friendly conversation starting with asking how his weekend went and that’s when the marksman sees him. Piers walks in and he can’t help the way his heart skips a beat when their eyes find each other’s immediately.

Piers acts naturally, except for the frequent glances he throws at Jill as the brunette turns around to greet him. He looks uncomfortable in his own skin talking to Jill although the marksman can’t fathom why, but he can’t help himself. He steps around Jill and right in the middle of the office, grabs Piers by the shoulders and pulls him in, locking lips with the Sniper for all to see.

0o0

The sound of her boots tapping on the tiles grates on her ears and she seriously considers that the owner of this gas station should replace them, especially since some seem to shift when she applies her weight over them. Claire sighs, opening the freezer and pulling out a bottle of water before letting the glass door slam shut, the sound of another freezer door closing prompting her to glance over. The guy has his back towards her, but the head of blonde hair is familiar, the blue jacket he had worn before in both of their encounters a dead giveaway.

The corner of Claire’s lips tug into a little smirk as she steps over to her acquaintance, “Back to what you’re good at?” To his credit, Steve barely startles, but his head whips around so fast she’s surprised he didn’t pull something. “What? The other gas station ban you from coming in?”

Recognition settles on his features, the blonde turning around completely to face her, “Har, har, very funny, Claire.”

“So you remember my name? Bravo to you, gas station thief,” Claire smiles, the wrinkle of his nose pulling a chuckle from her. “I know, I know, Steve.”

“I’m gonna have to start calling you biker girl or something,” Steve grins, leaning against the freezer and crossing his arms over his chest.

His words don’t have the intended effect on the redhead, who grins in return, “That sounds fine to me.” With that, she turns around and makes her way to the front of the gas station.

Steve grunts under his breathe before Claire hears him shuffling after her, “Y’know, we should really stop meeting like this.”

Claire places her water on the counter and hands the cashier cash before glancing over her shoulder at the blonde male, “Are you saying that we should plan to meet?”

Steve’s eyes widen, blinking owlishly at her, “What? Uh, no? Yes?”

The redhead’s grin spreads before she’s taking her change and grabbing her water, making her way out of the gas station, Steve making to follow her before she turns around. “You should pay for that,” Claire winks at him, gesturing at his own can soda in his hands.

“Oh, right,” he breathes out, the redhead chuckling again in amusement.

“Tell you what, I like ice cream,” Claire offers. “And I think Sunday afternoons are the best time for something cold.”

She leaves Steve staring after her, watching as she hops on her bike again before pulling out onto the road, only snapped out of it by the teen behind the counter.

“Hey buddy,” the cashier calls out to him, indicating at the soda.

“Right, of course,” Steve nods, placing the soda on the counter, head running over what the redhead had said. She definitely said ice cream on Sunday, right? He’s not misinterpreting any of that, is he?

A smile crawls its way onto Steve’s features, the young man shaking his head in amusement. What is it about Claire that always leaves him stumbling over himself? He isn’t sure yet but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get down to the bottom of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t anything about RE!
> 
> Author’s Note: I did my best with the first part, but writing a sex scene is a whole lot harder then what many talented writers make it seem. Hats off to them. I hope it’s good enough for you readers who may have been waiting for this. Please let me know if you enjoyed this chapter and thank you for reading!


	18. Chapter 17 - Present (2012)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present (2012)

The tiles are cool beneath his bare feet, every step he takes closer to that doorway getting colder and colder. Chris’ bedroom. Since day one it had been off limits even though Chris had never said so. It had been understood, especially with Jill sleeping in there. _With_ him.

He never had the courage before. Not when Chris had still been a stranger. In many ways he still is. Chris isn’t the same man Piers had been separated from in that forest. Too many years have passed. The man is much older and has experienced things over the years the Sniper can’t even begin to consider, but there is one thing Piers is sure of when it comes to Chris: he’s curious.

Sitting around and thinking about how things should be isn’t going to change anything. Regardless if he somehow traveled through time or not, he doesn’t know how to go back. Standing in the old S.T.A.R.S office the day before made that painfully clear to Piers. Standing there with the much older man, time having affected both Chris and the walls of a place Piers once considered a home. Chris had always been taller, broader, but that’s an understatement when compared to this man. His fitted shirt strains over his muscles, narrow waist only accentuating this Chris’ impressive build. The stubble growing on his jaw and narrow, tired eyes only add to the air of maturity the shadows playing across his skin are giving him. Sharp angles and lips firmly pressed together, Piers can see the ‘kid’ that had surfaced from within Chris in the bar all that time ago is long gone.

Chris is a different man now and the Sniper finds himself wanting to know more about the older man that has taken him in - the new Chris.

Chris will be gone till at least five or six. Piers has the whole day, but he only wants ten minutes. Maybe even just five to set foot into that room that belongs to the older man. The door to the man’s bedroom is slightly ajar, that little fact scratching out the uneasiness Piers would have felt if he had to open the door himself. It’s much easier to just nudge the door open the rest of the way with his foot, almost as if it just opened on its own and Piers casually wanders in.

He stops by the doorway, nothing immediately jumping out at the Sniper. A bed, a dresser, and a door that leads to what is most likely a bathroom. Black sheets cover the bed, the dresser and nightstand pretty barren save for a few colognes, picture frames, and crap Chris pulls out of his pockets and tosses over the surface. Piers moves closer to the dresser, noticing a fancy glass bottle of perfume, completely different to the simple black and green cologne the older man seems to favor.

Piers tears his eyes away from the perfume Jill must have left here in favor of focusing on the photos, the first one of Claire, looking like the eighteen years old redhead the Sniper is familiar with. The next one is of the younger Redfield again, but this time there is a blonde man Piers can only assume to be her fiancé, Steve. Chris himself only shows up in one of them where it’s him, Claire, Jill, and Barry at a table of some restaurant. They all look a little younger than what Piers has come to know them here in the future and the realization makes his throat feel dry. He had still been missing when they had taken this photo, the look on Chris’ face saying it all. Tight lipped smile compared to the wide smile of the other three, sunken eyes that don’t shine as brightly. Piers lets himself dare to selfishly hope that if maybe he had been there with them, Chris would look genuinely happy.

Piers swallows, attempting to get his itchy throat to soothe as he turns away from the pictures, hazel landing on the closet. Chris’ closet door is open, a hanger sticking out from when Chris must have pulled it off the rack in his hurry to get dressed. Piers steps over to it, glancing at the clothes that fit the broad man. The older man has really gotten bigger over the years, to the point where his physique doesn’t resemble the one he had in his twenties. It’s impressive and not unwelcomed, this new bigger, stronger body. Quite the opposite. The Sniper wouldn’t be surprised if the captain is the eye candy of Raccoon. Chris has always been sturdy and resilient; his body reflects it better now.

Piers’ sharp hazel catch sight of something beige towards the back of the closet, set apart from the rest of Chris’ clothes. He pushes the clothes aside, his heart plummeting to his stomach when he recognizes what it is. Fingers grip the hanger and pull out the old S.T.A.R.S tactical vest. It doesn’t belong to Chris. It’s his.

The material feels rough to his fingers, the color faded from the years, but other than that, it’s in good condition. Like if it had been carefully tucked away. Like if Chris had been careful to keep it all those years.

Piers’ bottom lip finds its way between his teeth as he bites down on it in an attempt to stop his quivering jaw. What must Chris have been thinking when he hanged it in his closet? What must the older man have been feeling? Is it anything like this hollow feeling in Piers’ chest that makes his knees go weak, the Sniper having to find the closet’s door frame with his back in order to keep himself from crumbling to the floor?

Piers’ fingers tighten around the material as he slides down to the floor, vest pressed against his heaving chest. This isn’t right. None of it is. This isn’t Chris’ apartment. Not the one he would frequent, even stay the night every so often. These aren’t Chris’ clothes. Not the ones he would slip into after he came with Chris straight after work or the ones he would borrow to hang around all weekend, smelling like dirt, cheap whiskey, and cigarettes. Those aren’t Chris’ sheets. Not the ones he would bury himself under, wrestling with Chris as his lover would pull him close and pepper him with kisses until he was boneless in his arms.

The older captain of this time has done everything he could to help the Sniper adjust, but it’s not enough. It will never be enough.

He wants to go back to his time. He wants to go home. He wants Chris, his Chris. The twenty-five-year-old marksman with the stubborn sense of justice that would lead him head first into danger if it meant saving people. The headstrong, sincere sharp shooter that could still manage to be a little cocky as he put all he had into protecting those around him, into supporting Claire. The dorky young man who put all his passion into teaching him hand-to-hand combat and guarding his back out there in the field, the same one who could let out a stream of curses when pissed before turning around and cuddling Piers to his chest with the sweet comforting words of never letting him go.

That Chris that Piers needs is not here in this time. He’s in the past. Somewhere Piers should be. He doesn’t belong in this time. That much had been made obvious when he had been declared dead. Everyone he had known has moved on. Built their lives without him, and why wouldn’t they? He had been dead, but now he’s back like a ghost that won’t stay gone.

Piers’ head rests on his knees, the vest still clutched to his chest as he takes in deep, shaky breaths. This breakdown had been long overdue. The Sniper has always been one to keep a level head, but there are times when it’s just too much. He had managed to keep himself in check ever since he realized that this is all really happening at the hospital, but it only bottled up inside and led to this. Pathetically curled up on the floor of Chris’ closet, clutching his own S.T.A.R.S vest to his chest and coming to terms with the fact that this is a fucked up turn of events in his life he never wanted.

Piers doesn’t know how long he sits there, knees drawn up tight to his chest, but it feels like a long time before the sound of knocking on the front door pulls him out of it. His neck aches as he lifts his head, face feeling puffy as he blinks slowly. The knocking continues, the Sniper pursing his pouty lips before he’s using the closet door he had been leaning against to push himself up on stiff legs, cramping from being drawn up to his chest for so long. Piers adjusts the vest back on the hangar before tucking it towards the back of the closet where Chris had placed it, stepping away and closing the closet.

The knocking reminds Piers that someone is at the apartment door and he pushes away from the closet, making sure to close Chris’ bedroom door behind him before dragging his feet towards the front doorway. By then, the person has stopped knocking but Piers steps up to the door and looks out the peephole regardless, catching sight of a head of blonde hair before the person turns and moves away.

Jill is the first name that jumps to the Sniper’s head, stomach twisting at having the woman back at the apartment again. She hasn’t come by in a while, but Piers knows Chris sees her at the office every day. She’s still in S.T.A.R.S after all. What Piers doesn’t understand is why she’s here rather than at the office. Rubbing his arm across his eyes and hoping he doesn’t look as bad as he feels, the young man opens the door and pokes his head out, her name on the tip of his tongue, but he never utters it.

Piers immediately knows the retreating back doesn’t belong to Jill, not with how tall and broad the male's shoulders are. That’s another give away, it’s a man, his silky blonde hair ending just above his shoulders clad in a black leather jacket. The man stops and glances over his shoulder at the sound of a door opening, blue eyes meeting hazel despite one being partially concealed by the long hair covering half his face.

“Leon?” the name escapes the Sniper’s lips before the man he’s now sure is Leon can speak. That hair, that face, it’s his friend alright.

Leon opens his mouth as if he’s going to speak before he snaps it shut, shaking his head as he walks up to Piers, now a good few inches taller than the Ace. One hand comes up to rub at his chin where a subtle beard is growing, the tall-tell sign that the blonde man is searching for his words.

“Wow,” Leon starts and it’s all he can muster to say for a while, clearing his throat before he continues, “Even though I had been expecting it, seeing you in person like this is still pretty shocking.”

“You have no idea,” Piers returns, voice barely above a whisper.

0o0

The same, yet different. Piers finds himself using those words to describe a lot of the familiar faces he has come across in this future. Leon Scott Kennedy is sitting across from him, elbows on his knees as he subtly leans his weight forward, clear blue eyes studying his long lost friend. Piers himself takes in Leon, by now a given that everyone is much older than he last remembers them. Chris isn’t the only one who has packed on some muscle and while Leon isn’t as big as the man, he’s still built, looking sturdy and stronger than Piers could have ever imagined his rather skinny childhood friend being. Hair as neat as always, it’s a little longer now, framing his sharp features and adding to his cool, mature aura.

Piers swallows and it sound so loud in the silence of the living room, attempting to ease the tightness in his throat before he speaks, “Leon -”

“I’m sorry,” Leon cuts the Sniper off, prompting the younger man to clamp his mouth shut while his brows raise in question. “About not being there when you were found. About not coming to see you sooner.”

Piers hadn’t expected that. “It’s fine, really,” he shrugs. “I mean, half the time I didn’t know what was going on.”

Leon shakes his head, a frown etched on his features, “I can tell you I was busy and it would be mostly true. I’m a government agent now, tasked with protecting the president’s daughter and all that.” Piers’ eyes widen, but the blonde agent doesn’t let him comment, running a hand through his hair and taking a steadying breath before continuing. “But that wouldn't be whole truth. The real reason it’s taken me weeks to come see you? I was scared.”

“What?”

“Fourteen years, Piers. You were gone without any kind of lead. Nothing. And then I hear you were found again. I didn’t know what to expect,” the blonde man explains, dark blue gazing intently into hazel.

Alive or dead.

It’s the Sniper that breaks their eye contact, glancing down at his bare feet, his toes the only digits visible from under the long sweatpants piled up at his ankles, “I’m sorry.”

“For what? From what I heard, you didn’t even know you were missing,” Leon says before he pushes up from his knees and sits back, looking considerably lighter now that he had been able to get that off his chest. “I didn’t come here to make you feel bad. I came because you’re my friend.”

Friend. That’s right. Growing up together, Piers and Leon had been inseparable, even when life took them down different paths. Sometimes coming off standoffish or aloof to people who don’t know him, Leon is anything but. He’s always had a knack for one-liners at the most awkward times that could make people either crack up or cringe, Piers had always been of the former, findings Leon’s badly-timed sense of humor refreshing in any situation.

The guy is blessed with looks, brains, and a sense of justice to rival Chris’. Regardless of how popular he had gotten over the years growing up, Leon never let the attention get to his head. Rather, he basked in the chance to be a shining example for others. Honest and an all-around good guy, Leon had been that dependable friend Piers could always turn to and the Sniper had. After Leon had left to join the Raccoon police force, he had extended an invitation to Piers and he meant it, more than happy to accommodate Piers when he had run away from home. It’s just who Leon is and if the man hadn’t admitted the real reason why he hadn’t come to see Piers sooner, if he hadn’t admitted that he’d been scared, then he would never have been able to look Piers in the face.

A small smile spreads across Piers’ features, “You haven’t changed.”

The corner of Leon’s lips quirk upward, “That should be my line.”

“I’m not mad, or upset or anything,” the Sniper admits. “I did wonder about you. If you were still in Raccoon. What you had been up to, but I also have to admit that I had a lot of things to wrap my head around.”

“Fair enough,” the blonde man smiles earnestly. “And how has that been going for you?”

“It’s getting easier, I guess,” the Sniper shrugs. “But tell me about you. You said something about the president’s daughter?”

“Ah, yes,” the blonde agent nods, crossing a leg over the other. “I’m a government agent now. Worked my way up from a cop to a detective, eventually CIA then the government, and not just from my good looks, alright?”

Piers grins, catching the mischievous grin Leon shoots his way, “Wow, Leon. You’ve really done well for yourself.”

“There’s one case I hadn’t been able to solve though,” Leon pauses for a moment, cocking his head to the side, his blonde hair falling across his face. “Yours.”

And just like that the Sniper’s throat feels tight again, making his words sound strained, “You were on my case?”

“How could I have not been? I was part of the team put together to search for you and when I got promoted, I worked under Sheva and Josh.”

Piers purses his lips, thinking about the two agents that had taken on his case since this whole ordeal started for him. He hadn’t stopped to think that Leon might have been part of the search as well, but the blonde had been a cop at the time, after all.

“I’ve heard bits and pieces about what happened. About how you were found,” the blonde man leaves it at that, letting Piers be the one to set it all straight for him.

Piers takes the opening, “Which version do you want to hear? Mine or theirs?”

“Give me both.”

“I got lost in the Arklay Mountains for no more than two hours and next thing I know an older version of Chris Redfield is tackling me to the ground. I skipped fourteen years, that’s my version.”

Leon nods once, “And theirs?”

“I have amnesia or something and forgot about the last fourteen years,” Piers answers in one breath.

The blonde furrows his brows, “And the fact that you’re still in your early twenties?”

“A rare condition never heard of before,” Piers supplies. “There’s a new version now, though. The one Chris proposes where I have been held captive by Albert Wesker for the last fourteen years but remember none of it.”

Leon blinks at him before he lowers his head, shaking it incredulously, “Chris is still going on and on about Wesker?”

It’s Piers’ turn to furrow his brows, “What do you mean?”

“Chris always suspected Wesker. Since the very beginning, Chris didn’t let up, even with no evidence. Wesker had been the prime suspect, still is to some extent since he had been the last person seen with you, but to Chris he hadn’t been a suspect. He had been the one. Guilty.”

“Oh,” the Ace breathes out.

“Chris gave the man hell. Your case had been and pretty much still is the biggest mystery in Raccoon. Everyone was talking about it and everyone pointed the finger at Wesker. It was a crazy time. It was all over the news,” Leon explains.

Piers bites his bottom lip. He hadn’t realized his disappearance had caused that much of an uproar. He had heard from Sheva and Josh that it had been pretty big, but to be all over the news and the talk of the town?

“Say Leon, can I...is there any way I could see it? Newspapers, old recordings, whatever?” Piers asks and he wonders why he hadn’t had the urge before. Maybe it’s because he hadn’t really come to terms that this future world he finds himself in right now might be permanent.

“Yeah,” Leon nods slowly, leaning forward. “But are you sure you want to?”

“I do.”

0o0

Of the few times the office is quiet, Chris is glad this evening is one of them. His men leave for the day, the captain himself shoving papers into a pile for tomorrow, going through the list in his head of anything important he needs to do for the next day.

The sound of his office door closing prompts Chris to glance up, not having realized he had even left the door open until he sees Jill leaning against it, solemn expression on her face. For the past few days, their respective assignments seemed to keep them busy, enough so that the female agent hadn’t even come by his apartment in a while. Chris ignores the nagging feeling that busy or not, that’s not the real reason why Jill has been distant.

“We need to talk,” she states, no room for refusal in her tone.

That’s all the blonde woman needs to say for Chris to immediately stop what he’s doing, straightening up as he lets his gaze meet hers.

“There was never anything between us, was there?” Jill jumps right in, not one to beat around the bush. Chris has always respected that about her. She holds up her hand, silencing the older man as she continues, “Friendship. Partnership. I know that was real, but that’s about it, am I wrong?”

A frown tugs at Chris’ lips, “Jill . . . I . . . believe me when I say that you mean so much to me.”

Jill is still for a moment, Chris feeling as if her eyes are boring holes right through him before she nods, the action a little jerky as she purses her lips, “I know. . . just not the same way you mean so much to me.”

The older man’s lips pull into a tight line, the crease in his brows making him look so old and tired. Jill can relate.

“I can’t and I won’t do this. I just needed to make that clear,” Jill states before she’s turning around and pulling the door open, pausing for a long moment as if she’s debating something in her head before she’s walking out of the captain’s office without looking back, leaving Chris standing there in the empty, quiet space.

0o0

The drive back to his apartment is a blur, Chris replaying the painfully short talk with Jill over and over again in his head.

He never meant to hurt her. That had never been anything he intended, but it seems it had been bound to happen the moment Chris dared to allow himself to try and feel something again. He thought he owed it to her, not to himself, but to her. A dear friend that had done her hardest to stand by him. She had been part of his support system along with Claire and Barry, still is in many ways, but there had always been something about Jill that told him that even though she had genuinely wanted to help him, there had always been something more. Jill had always wanted something more.

Something more that he couldn't give because he had already given it to someone else. Jill had understood that. Had done nothing but respect Piers’ memory, but Chris can imagine that there had been a part of her that may have thought that Piers would never appear again. That may have thought that even though he had already given his heart and soul to someone else, a someone else unreachable, she may have been able to find a way to give him her heart and soul.

Chris tightens his grip around the steering wheel, pulling into a parking space and cutting the engine. He feels like such a bastard. A bastard that dared to let Jill reach out to him even though he had always kept his arms open for a man who may have never returned. But he did. Piers is back and Chris fights away the wave of relief that always comes with that thought. Chris would always be untroubled to have Piers back. That’s one thing he will never regret. One thing he will never take for granted and right now, he really just needs to see Piers and reassure himself yet again that the Sniper is here. Not gone, but here.

That conviction is shaken when Chris steps foot into his apartment, an unfamiliar voice meeting his ears.

_“Investigators are left puzzled, the few leads they had all leading to a dead end. . .”_

The older man furrows his brows, following the sound into the living room where the bright lights of the TV meet his eyes, an image of Piers at his high school graduation. The scene shifts to one of Chris himself, an old recording of fourteen years ago on the local news ducking into the police department to avoid the reporters bombarding him with questions.

“What is this?” he hears himself say, but he knows exactly what this is. A report covering Piers’ missing person case. What he means to ask is why the Sniper is watching it, but that question is pushed to the back of his mind when he realizes that Piers is not alone on that couch.

The blonde stranger turns at the same time Piers does, both of them looking wide eyed from over the back of the couch and Chris realizes that maybe his tone had come out harsher than he had intended, recognition settling in when his brown meet blue.

Leon.

“Hey, Chris,” the blonde man greets, a tight smile on his lips as he stands up.

Chris strides forward, rounding the couch to where the man is, “What are you doing here?”

“All business as always I see,” Leon mutters more to himself than to the older man.

“Captain,” it’s Piers, the Sniper pushing himself to his feet, glancing between Chris and Leon. No, not at Leon, at him.

“You can’t take him,” Chris states, tone dangerous as he narrows his eyes at Leon. First Jill and now Leon is here to take Piers away from him? Why else would the blonde man be here? Chris won’t let him.

“Whoa Chris, calm down. Take who?” Leon frowns before he glances at Piers and realization settles in. “Oh, no. I’m not here to take Piers,” he says before he adds on, “Unless he wants to come with me -”

“He doesn’t,” Chris cuts him off, taking a heavy step forward, but Leon doesn’t back off, standing his ground and meeting the older man’s intense gaze.

“Captain,” Piers frowns, stepping past Leon and placing a hand on Chris’ chest, pushing him back. “Leon’s my friend.”

Chris doesn’t need to be reminded of that, but judging by the way the Sniper is frowning at him, he had felt the need to inform the older man. And judging by the way the younger man is pushing him back, he’s being too aggressive, but Chris can’t bring himself to care, not when Leon might take Piers. They’ve known each other much longer than Chris has known Piers. Leon himself is also some respected government agent that had once been assigned to Piers’ case. What’s to say the man won’t want to take charge of the Sniper?

Piers turns to Leon, offering him a small smile, “Thanks, but I’m alright.”

Leon finally breaks his staring contest with Chris to nod at Piers, following the Ace out of the living room. Chris turns on the spot, watching as Piers and Leon stop at the front door. Leon hands Piers a piece of paper, Chris assuming it to be his phone number, confirmed when he overhears the blonde man tell the Sniper to call him if he needs anything at all. Leon also tells Piers he’ll stay in contact and that he’ll come see him again soon.

Chris has to purse his lips and tuck his fists into his pockets when Piers leans into Leon, letting the blonde man pull him into a quick embrace, but the older man can see the comfort and relief that crosses the Sniper’s features at being reunited with his old friend again. With that Leon steps out, offering Chris a wave before he’s gone, the Ace closing the door behind him before turning to face the captain.

“You want to tell me what that was about?” Piers raises a brow at him, full lips pulled into a frown.

Chris shifts his weight from his left leg to his right. “Just thought he was here to take you away,” he admits sheepishly, turning and dropping into the couch.

The Sniper comes up the arm of the couch, hazel studying him intently, “Leon’s my friend and he’s looking out for me, but he didn’t even mention that. I’m sure he could tell I was doing alright.”

“I know,” Chris sighs, feeling like crap for being so hostile towards the blonde man. He hadn’t meant to. Not really. He just couldn’t bear the thought of Leon taking the Sniper from him. Piers belongs here. With him. “Crappy day, that’s all.”

The younger man is silent, silently watching Chris with those sharp eyes of him and the captain knows that the Sniper suspects something else is also bothering him. After the way he just acted, Chris supposes the least he could do is tell him. That combined with the fact that a part of him just needs Piers to know.

“Jill . . . it’s over. What we had,” Chris lets the words slip past his lips, muttering it quietly, but he knows Piers heard him with the way he stills from the corner of his eye.

Piers doesn’t say anything and Chris doesn’t either. He doesn’t even look up, not sure what kind of expression the Sniper would have on his face. He doesn’t want the younger man to see the expression on his own face either.

It might be one he isn’t ready to come to terms with yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: RE and its characters are not mine.
> 
> Author’s Note: Phew, quite a few things happen in this chapter. Piers, Leon, and then Jill. I’m happy to get Leon in this again!
> 
> Please let me know if you liked it and thank you for reading!


	19. Chapter 18 - Past (1998)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Past (1998)

“Jill still isn't talking to you?” Chris inquires, slouching so low on his couch that his backside is practically hanging off the edge, a popsicle stick jutting out from between his lips.

“Forget talking. She barely looks at me,” Piers frowns, his feet carrying him back and forth across the tiny living room without him even being aware of it.

“I still don't see what the big deal is,” the marksman’s muffled reply comes as he speaks without removing the popsicle stick, unable to focus on the television screen with his boyfriend pacing back and forth in front of him.

The Sniper purses his lips before breathing out heavily through his nose, “The deal is that I'm pretty sure Jill hates me.”

“Over a kiss? It's been, what? Three weeks?”

“It's not about the kiss,” Piers frowns before he backtracks in both his speech and movements, Chris giving up on watching any TV and focusing on following his boyfriend’s attempt at walking a ditch into his floor. “Well, it is, kind of. It's just Jill likes you, ok? She confided in me and what do I do? I fuck the object of her affections.”

Chris grimaces at that before he sits up, reaching out to grab Piers by the hip, stopping him from walking past him yet again. He tugs the Ace towards him, urging Piers to sit on his lap. The marksman wraps both arms around Piers waist, keeping the younger man flush against his chest as he buries his face in the crook of the Sniper’s neck.

“Stop stressing over it. I chose you,” the marksman breathes out against Piers’ neck, his lips brushing the Sniper’s skin and feeling the shiver than courses through the younger man’s body. “I don't like Jill that way.”

“You don't?” the Sniper probes. “Don't think she's attractive?”

“She is. Look, I'll be honest here. When I first joined S.T.A.R.S, we instantly connected, but that might have also been because she had been the hottest chick I'd ever seen,” Chris admits, a sly smile crossing his features at the uncomfortable way the Ace shifts on his lap. “She’s got a pair of legs and a tiny waist…”

“Ok, I get it,” Piers mumbles and the marksman can clearly imagine the pout that must be on his face.

“And full lips,” Chris continues, his shit eating grin spreading ear-to-ear now. “But you know what? I like yours better.” Emphasized with a squeeze around Piers’ waist, Chris nuzzles his boyfriend’s neck before letting his lips trail up the Sniper’s jaw. “I chose you, ok? You’re my boyfriend and I’m damn well pleased with what I have.”

Piers grunts, but Chris knows he’s won, especially when the Ace leans back into the marksman’s hold and turns his face to find Chris’ lips.

“I don't know how you could hate them,” Chris mumbles against the younger man’s full lips. “They’re perfect.”

“Thank you,” replies a voice that clearly does not belong to Piers, Claire trotting into the living room. She grabs one of her brother’s arms and pulls it from around the Ace’s waist so that she can sit on Chris’ other leg, inviting herself into their little moment.

“You’re heavy. Get off,” Chris immediately complains, trying to move his leg and make his sister stand up, but Claire is nothing if not stubborn.

“So what are we talking about?” Claire smiles innocently, looking between her brother and his boyfriend.

“Shouldn’t you be gone already?” Chris comments, but there is no bite to his words, leaning back against the couch and resigning himself to numb legs.

“I’m hurt. I thought you couldn’t wait for me to go on my summer break,” the redhead pouts playfully, glancing over her shoulder at Chris.

“That was before you came here and emptied my fridge,” the older Redfield snorts, fighting the grin trying to spread across his features.

“There was nothing there to begin with,” Claire quips, grinning triumphantly.

“Claire,” Chris groans, trying to move his leg again, but she doesn’t budge.

“You’re not complaining about Piers,” the redhead shoots back.

“That’s because I can do this,” Chris states as he pulls himself into an upright sitting position and pecks his boyfriend on the cheek, prompting the younger Redfield to twist her face into an exaggerated expression of mock disgust. Chris snickers in response, feeling triumphant, but it dies in his throat at Claire’s next jab.

“Does that really feel good?” she inquires, raising her eyebrow at Piers. “My brother can’t kiss. Whenever he kissed me goodnight, I felt like sandpaper was being rubbed against my forehead.”

Piers chuckles at that, Chris tightening his grip around his boyfriend’s waist before shooting back, “What do you know about kissing?”

“Enough,” Claire grins before she can catch herself.

Chris’ face goes from teasing older brother to serious protective brother in the split of a second, “What was that? Who have you been kissing?”

“What? No one,” Claire shrugs, realizing Chris isn’t buying it by the way his light blue eyes narrow at her. “No one, really. Jeez.”

“There some guy on campus?”

“No,” which is not a lie. Steve doesn’t go to her university.

“Claire,” the marksman presses, using that authoritative tone Claire knows very well by now.

“I was joking! Can’t you take a joke?” the younger Redfield shrugs, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder. “I’m eighteen anyway and in college, lay off.”

Chris has always been a little overboard with protecting his baby sister and really, there have been times when his over-protectiveness is appreciated. Claire can recall a few times when some bullies thought they’d get their kicks by making fun of her and she hadn’t felt the least bit of remorse when Chris had shown up and sent them home crying with their tails between their legs. Claire gets it, but really, Piers is barely that much older than her by three years!

In the end, that had not been the right thing to say, Chris’ brows furrowing and adding to his piercing gaze. Claire takes it as her cue to bounce out of there. She jumps up off her brother’s lap, thanking Piers in her head when the Ace refuses to budge when Chris tries to stand up as well.

“Claire,” Chris demands before Piers grabs his boyfriend’s chin and turns his face towards him.

“Hey, it’s fine. She’s just messing with you,” the Sniper tries to soothe, buying Claire just enough time to make her escape.

“See you two later!” Claire calls out before the front door shuts behind her, the redhead disappearing out the door just as quickly as she had popped up.

“Piers,” the marksman frowns, annoyed blue eyes turning towards him instead.

“She’ll be fine. You should be worrying about kissing me,” Piers smirks, placing soft kisses to the corner of his boyfriend’s mouth.

Chris grunts, looking about ready to protest, but it melts away when Piers stands from the marksman’s lap to turn and straddle him, knees on the couch on either side of the older man. The Sniper places his hands on his boyfriend’s chest, gently pushing him back until Chris’ back meets the cushions before he claims his lips, the marksman’s hands finding the Sniper’s hips.

Chris’ tongue swipes across the younger man’s bottom lip, the Sniper allowing the marksman entry as their kiss deepens, tongues fighting for control of the kiss. Chris’ breathe catches in his throat when Piers suddenly grounds down on him, a moan escaping them both when the marksman tightens his grip on his boyfriend’s hips and pulls him down again, heat pooling down south as they continue to move against each other.

“Damn, Piers,” the older man breathes out harshly before he’s wrapping one arm around the Sniper’s waist to keep him from falling as he stands up, Piers wrapping his arms around Chris’ shoulders and his legs around his waist for leverage.

Piers laughs against his lips, knowing full well where Chris’ destination is. Thinking better on it now, maybe Piers had the right idea in letting Claire get away.

0o0

Heavy breathing are the only sounds filling the room, Chris’ chest rising and falling almost in alignment with Piers’. The room is hot, the sheets sticking to his skin not making things any better. He kicks them off his sweaty body, but when Piers grabs them and pulls them up over himself, the marksman sits up.

Chris runs his fingers through his greasy hair, craving a cigarette to make this post-coital bliss just perfect.

“This feels so surreal,” Piers’ voice breaks the silence, Chris glancing at him from over his shoulder. The Sniper lays on his back and he isn’t looking at the older man, hazel trained on the ceiling. “I wanted to work with you, but I never thought like this.”

“You never explained that to me,” Chris recalls, letting his eyes rest on Piers’ face, watching the sweat rolling down the Sniper’s temple. “You said you joined S.T.A.R.S because of me, right?”

Piers’ purses his lips, silently laying there for a minute before he finally turns his head to meet Chris’ gaze, “Do you remember earlier in the year when Raccoon’s police department was taken over by gunmen? I know you do. You were there and you charged in to save the hostages,” he explains before he pauses for a moment, adding, “I was there too.”

Chris blinks at him, “You were?”

“Yeah, a hostage,” the Sniper admits, turning his gaze back to the ceiling. “I couldn’t sit there and watch them start killing people, so I tackled one of the gunmen, and then you came kicking down the doors and saved the day.”

“That was you?” That’s right. After the shot went off, Chris had raced into the station, finding a kid wrestling with one of the gunmen.

Piers nods, gaze still drawn upward, but Chris can tell that the younger man is focused on him. Piers has always been reckless, just like him, it seems.

“Yeah, after you charged in like that and saved the other hostages, saved me, I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to join S.T.A.R.S. I didn’t think I’d actually end up working so close to you and I didn’t think...I didn’t think this would happen. This is a whole lot better than anything I could have imagined,” Piers admits, the heat rising to his cheeks barely noticeable with his already flushed face.

A grin finds its way onto Chris’ features as he leans over and places a quick kiss on those sinful lips, “You have no idea.”

Bare feet make contact with the cool floor as Chris stands up from the bed, rolling his shoulder and running a hand through his hair in an attempt to sweep it off his face, oblivious to the hazel eyes that have settled on his exposed bare body.

Piers’ takes him all in, from his toned legs up his backside and up his well-defined back. Chris looks like some kind of Adonis standing there, the perspiration settling on his tan skin giving off a glow that makes him look like a sex god. Those hard abs and that slender waist only make the Sniper want to get up and run his hands along the plains of that perfect body.

"Enjoying the view?" the marksman’s voice reaches Piers’ ears, hazel finally meeting blue he hadn’t realized had turned to look at him. Chris is so sure of himself, confident as he stands there in front of his boyfriend letting him see his naked body.

Piers’ cheeks grow warm as he tugs the sheets up to his nose, unable to look away. He doesn’t know why he’s feeling so flustered, blushing like a virgin when he’s anything but after what Chris has done to him, but he can’t help it. This is the first time he’s seen his boyfriend stark naked in the day. He wants to burn every curve of that lean body to his memory. Wants to be able to see him printed to the inside of his eyelids every time he blinks.

"You're the one being an exhibitionist," the Ace quips, pointedly roaming Chris’ body with his gaze before they meet the marksman’s, surprised to see a rosy color tainting the older man’s cheeks. So Chris isn’t completely unaffected by Piers’ ogling.

There is something else in Chris’ eyes however. Something between anxious and expectant. Nervous even. Chris shifts from one foot to the next, starting to look unsure of himself before the Sniper speaks up.

“I like what I see,” Piers mutters, his voice a little hoarse from the noises Chris had pulled from him just a few minutes before adding to the quiet of the afternoon. “You’re gorgeous.”

The marksman’s nervous gaze gives way to acceptance and Piers realizes what must have had Chris on edge. It’s not easy to give yourself over to someone. To trust them and completely reveal yourself to someone else.

Chris’ features break out into a grin before he places one knee on the bed and reaches over to his boyfriend, gripping the sheet and tugging, but the Ace tugs back, not letting the marksman take the sheets from him.

“Hey, it’s only fair,” Chris pouts.

“What’s fair? I didn’t tell you to strut around in your birthday suit,” Piers retorts, fighting the blush spreading from his face all the way down to his neck.

Chris chuckles at that, “You’re my boyfriend. We’ve had sex. What haven’t I seen already?”

“Exactly. Nothing for you to see,” Piers counters, clenching the sheet with an iron grip and trying to squirm away from Chris, but the marksman is having none of that as he grabs the Sniper’s arm.

“Oh c’mon! That’s not true,” Chris grins, climbing on top of the squirming Sniper. “I want to see you. All of you. I was too busy trying to make you feel good to really get a good look at you. And it was dark.”

Piers flushes at Chris’ statement, but it doesn’t stop him from trying to wrestle out of the older man’s hold. “Chris! Stop being a pervert,” he whines, but the marksman can see the smile on the Sniper’s features clear as day.

“C’mon babe,” Chris urges before a yelp is caught in his throat when the Ace pushes up and rolls them over, the marksman now on his back and pinned under the Sniper. Piers flashes him a triumphant grin before he tries to jump off his boyfriend.

Chris reaches out, grabbing the sheet Piers tries to keep wrapped around his body, but the Sniper had been trying to climb off the bed and the pull ends up making him lose balance, tumbling off the edge of the bed and landing unceremoniously on the floor.

“Shit!” Chris curses at Piers’ muffled “Ow” when he hits the floor, sheets still clenched in his grip as he sits up and peers over the side of the bed. “You ok?”

Piers nods from his position on the floor, flat on his back with the sheets unraveled and barely covering his slender hips. Hazel meet blue and for a moment none of them move a muscle, but the moment instantly shatters when they both burst into a fit of laughter.

“I’m sorry,” Chris snorts between his laughter. “I shouldn’t laugh.”

Piers shakes his head, having trouble containing his own laughter as Chris slips off the side of the bed and kneels by his boyfriend, running his fingers through Piers' hair. The motion makes the Sniper lock eyes with him, all laughter gone from Chris’ face and replaced with a kind of adoration Piers has never seen on his face before.

"You make me happy. You know that? I'm happy," the marksman admits, warmth lacing his every word as blue stare into hazel.

Piers feels heat rush to his face again, but this time, it also travels down into his chest and stomach, making it all the way down to his toes.

Chris grabs the Sniper’s hand, helping him up. He reaches for the sheets around Piers waist, but instead of pulling them away as the Ace had thought he would, he wraps it around the Sniper’s hips. Before Chris can pull away, Piers grabs his wrist, keeping the older man close as he leans forward and places a kiss on his lips. Chris goes along with the kiss, attempting to deepen it before he feels the Ace place his palms on his chest and push him back towards the bed, sitting on the edge when he feels it bump against the back of his knees.

Piers breaks the kiss then to take a step back, hazel locked with mesmerized blue that trail down to his mouth when the Ace pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. The Sniper loosens the sheets covering his hips, pausing when Chris speaks up.

“Piers, you don’t-”

“I want to,” Piers interrupts him, determined sharp eyes telling Chris all he needs to know. What did he do to deserve such a perfect man?

Chris watches, entranced, as Piers slowly unwraps the sheets from around his hips and lets it pool around his feet. Standing there, completely bare and exposed for Chris to see, the Sniper can swear that his heart is beating in his ears, every second that passes by with the marksman’s lust filled eyes roaming every inch of his lithe body feeling like an eternity.

“My god…” Chris breathes out, voice hoarse before his gaze finally meets Piers’. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

That’s all it takes for the knot in Piers’ stomach to untie, his knees no longer feeling like jelly. “Don’t call me pretty,” Piers mutters, no bite behind his words as he takes a step towards his boyfriend.

Chris’ hands raise up to find the Sniper’s hips, holding him close, blue eyes having trouble moving away from the package in front of his face and up that toned stomach to his boyfriend’s golden hazel also clouded over with lust. He likes this angle, Chris realizes. He likes it a lot.

“We’re not leaving this bed for the rest of the day, are we?” the marksman breathes out, hot breath creating goosebumps on the younger man’s skin.

Piers doesn’t answer him right away, opting to slip into Chris’ lap and straddle him instead, knees on either side of the marksman on the bed as he wraps his arms around the older man’s neck.

“No,” the Sniper breathes out, bottom lip snagged between his teeth looking so damn swollen and kissable.

Chris tightens his grip on his boyfriend’s hips, bringing him flush against his body as he claims those plump lips, Piers meeting him just as strongly as they fight for dominance over the kiss, but they never get to find out who would have dominated when Chris’ phone goes off, his ringtone filling the room.

Piers pulls away, but Chris doesn’t let him get too far before he’s pulling the Sniper back in. The hazel eyed young man gets the picture, sinful lips finding the marksman’s again.

Chris’ phone goes silent for a few moments before it starts ringing again, the marksman huffing under his breathe before he breaks the kiss with Piers, “Sorry. I should get that.”

Piers nods. He understands. It might be Claire trying to get in contact with her brother. The Ace rolls off his boyfriend, flopping back onto the sheets as Chris gets up and rounds the bed, grabbing his phone from the nightstand.

The Sniper watches as Chris pauses when he reads the caller ID before bringing the phone up to his ear, “Yeah?”

“Chris?” Barry’s voice filters through the speakers, sounding short of breath and distraught.

“Barry? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Polly,” Barry starts, the man having trouble forming the next words. “There’s been an accident. She’s… she’s been shot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own RE!
> 
> Author’s Note: Young Claire is so fun to write! This chapter is all romance and lovey-dovey Nivanfield time. They’ll need it. Chris and Piers just fit together. I love them so much!


	20. Chapter 19 - Present (2012)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present (2012)

Each shot is dead center, dexterous fingers skillfully loading the bullet into the chamber before pulling the trigger in record speed. With a knowledge granted to him from dedicated practice of what must have been hours upon hours daily, Piers handles the gun in his hands like a true professional.

Brown eyes study the young Sniper beside him, the way the stock of the rifle is nestled against his shoulder, an exemplary hold on the gun that would leave any instructor more than impressed. The focus is clear on Piers’ face, sight unwavering from the scope as he loads another bullet all from practiced ease. This is exactly how Piers had been when Chris first laid eyes on him all those years ago. Standing in the S.T.A.R.S shooting range with the rest of the team and holding up his own in the field with the best of the best.

After the last bullet hits its target, Piers lowers the rifle, hazel finally glancing over to meet brown, “So? That good enough for ya?”

“Impressive,” Chris admits, a small grin making its way over his features. “You haven’t lost your edge.”

“Aside from a few weeks where I was dying to get my hands on a rifle again, not much time has passed, Captain,” the Sniper responds before he adds. “For me, anyway.”

“Your cockiness is still alive and well so I’ll take your word for it,” Chris chuckles.

Piers shoots him a grin before he’s raising his gun again, but a gloved hand grabs the barrel of the rifle, prompting the Sniper to glance back over at the older man.

“My turn,” Chris simply states before he lifts the weapon out of Piers’ hands.

The Sniper steps back, letting Chris get into position, the older man lifting the rifle to his shoulder and taking aim. He pulls the trigger, the bullet soaring at speeds faster than the eye can follow as it penetrates the target, quickly followed by another, each shot released faster than the last, each hitting their mark in the center.

Chris glances over his shoulder at Piers, hazel scrutinizing the targets, but he can see the impression he left on the younger man’s features.

“Am I giving you a run for your money yet?” the older man sports his own cocky grin, lifting the rifle and letting it rest on his massive shoulder.

Chris is a marksman, skilled with an assortment of weapons, from blades to machine guns and even bigger weapons. Rifles, however, had always been Piers’ expertise. It had been the one weapon the younger man could hold over Chris’ head, but over the years, the older man hasn’t shied away from them, but rather he’s grown fond of them, the reason standing right in front of him. Piers had barely ever been seen without his rifle, his guns sitting in the armory after he had vanished. Chris couldn’t bear to just let them sit there. In a way, it had been a way to hold on to Piers, to understand the younger man. Each time he had disassembled the rifles, cleaning and oiling them, to then spend time putting them back together had been the closest he had felt to the man he ached to find no matter what the cost. Of course having Piers himself is what he had really wanted.

Piers bites his bottom lip, gaze flickering between the Captain and the targets before he lets the admission slip out, “Hell yeah.”

Chris chuckles at that, “What kind of captain would I be if I can’t even keep up with my own sniper?” It takes a moment for the words to settle in, but when they do, hazel widen, head whipping back so fast Chris fears he might have sprained something. “Count this as an informal interview for the sake of it. You’ve got the job, soldier.”

The Sniper’s mouth opens and closes, words seemingly escaping him for a moment, “Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Chris inquires, lifting a brow at the younger man. “You wanted to join S.T.A.R.S again, right? You’ve obviously got the skills, so why not?”

The way Piers’ face lights up would put holiday lights to shame, the sparkle in those hazel eyes directed at Chris making warmth bloom in the older man’s chest. He’s the one to put that smile on those youthful features.

“Thank you, Captain,” Piers breathes out, the smile on his face unwavering, voice laced with gratitude and barely contained excitement. “Really, you have no idea how much this means to me.”

“How about you call me Chris, then?” the older man tries, not surprised at the snort in response from the Sniper.

“No can do. You’re definitely my captain now,” the Sniper shakes his head, the wide grin still in place. “It feels a little weird though.”

“I had to get used to it too,” Chris admits before he turns to grab the case he had kept by his feet, placing it on the counter for Piers to see. He opens it to reveal the parts of a gun, shiny pieces carefully tucked into place. It takes less than a second for the Sniper to recognize it. It had been his after all.

Piers wordlessly looks at the weapon before his gaze finds its way up to Chris’ face, brown already seeking out hazel. His thick stubble frames his jaw, all sharp angles with a contradictory softness in those brown orbs. Thin lips pulled into a small smile, the shadows accentuating his rugged handsome features.

First Piers’ tactical vest, and now his anti-material rifle? Had Chris really held onto him for the past fourteen years?

Chris clears his throat before tearing his gaze away from mesmerizing green and gold orbs, pushing the case towards Piers, “It still packs a punch. Still haven’t mastered it like you have, but then again, it is yours. Custom made for the Ace Sniper of S.T.A.R.S Alpha Team then...and now.”

If Chris thought Piers’ smile had been blinding before, there are no words to describe the high the Sniper had been walking on when he left the range, trusted anti-material rifle in his hands and with the title of S.T.A.R.S Alpha Team’s Sniper. It had lasted him for two days, now slowly draining out of him as he fidgets in the passenger seat of Chris’ truck on the way to the station.

Nothing could explain the moment when Piers walked into the kitchen that morning, dressed in his new S.T.A.R.S uniform, the beige color always suiting him best. It had been like the past, present, and future had come together in one moment, on one person. Still young and unchanged, Piers walked from the past into the present, and now Chris can finally see that there is a future as well. A future with Piers in it.

“Hey,” Chris calls out, the Sniper turning his head away from the window at the sound of the older man’s voice. “You’ll be fine.”

It’s not like Piers to be so agitated, anxious even, but then again this is the younger man’s first day with his new team, but never one to be deterred easily, not even by his own nerves, Piers hops out of the truck when they park and leads the way to the office, Chris trailing behind him with a smile threatening to spread across his features. This is the Piers he knows.

Chris wonders how long it will last as soon as they step in through the doors and all eyes are on them, well, on Piers to be exact. The room is silent, his unit taking in the new member. First impressions are pretty important and the captain can’t help but wonder what could be going through their heads.

Just as the silence borders unbearable, one of them, the rookie Finn stands up, shy smile on his features as he shuffles awkwardly forward, “W-welcome to Alpha, I’m Finn. Finn Macauley.”

“Piers Nivans,” the Sniper returns the smile, taking Finn’s hand gratefully.

After that it’s surprisingly easy. The rest of the team, Carl, Ben, and Andy, amble forward, introducing themselves. Chris couldn’t get the warmth spreading in chest to see his men reacting positively to Piers.

“Let me give you a tour of the station,” Chris suggests, stepping up behind Piers and gaining the attention of the unit.

“I-I’ll be happy to do it, captain!” Finn offers.

“It’s fine, Finn. I got it,” Chris chuckles. “How about we meet you boys out back?”

“Yes, sir,” the rookie nods, the rest of the unit following suit.

Chris waits until they have filtered out before glancing over to the Sniper, the younger man shuffling his weight from one leg to the other. “You’re doing great,” he offers before gesturing for Piers to follow him, showing him around. “They were just a little shocked. You do look exactly the same as your missing flyers. Hearing about it and seeing it are two different things.”

“Yeah, I figured as much,” Piers nods, attentively cataloging the new office in his mind. It’s bigger than the old building and packed with new technology the Sniper can’t say he knows how to use yet.

The Sniper pauses for a moment when he reads the name off one of the doors, lowering his head and pushing forward, the nervousness settling in his bones again.

_Jill Valentine._

Chris leads Piers out to the back, the rest of the team stopping from their usual routine to acknowledge the Captain.

“How about we get in some practice?” Chris suggests before he gestures for Andy to hand over his rifle. The captain turns to Piers then, winking at him. “Show ‘em what you’ve got.”

His team may have welcomed Piers, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s one of them just yet. He won’t be, not after at least an operation or two but the Captain knows what can help set them on that track. The younger man needs to earn their respect. Needs to show them there is a reason why Chris has brought him into the unit. The older man has no doubt in Piers’ skills and when the Sniper grabs the rifle, shifting into that professional head-space where it’s just him, the rifle, and the target, Chris knows his men won’t have a doubt either.

0o0

She can feel the heat seeping into the room despite the cool air filtering into the air. Can feel the glass hot against her skin but she doesn’t move, blue eyes trained on the field down below. Jill’s full bottom lip is pinched between her teeth, the metallic taste on her tongue prompting her to release it.

Chris is down there, the proud smile he wears on his face harder to look at than the rays of the sun, his unit crowding around the newest addition of their team as he demonstrates his marksmanship skills.

A knock at her door draws her attention, brows furrowing as she wonders just who would come see her, but the voice behind the door calling her name doesn’t come as a surprise to her. She should have known.

“Come in,” Jill calls out, a moment passing before Parker Luciani opens the door, poking his shaggy head in.

“Hey Jill, got those reports you needed,” he smiles, stepping in when she nods at him, walking over and placing them on her desk.

He turns to leave, pausing when he notices Jill’s attention is out the window again, the way she leans against the side of the window informing Parker that the woman may have been there for a while. He crosses the office over to her, stepping up to the window and catching sight of Alpha Team down on the field below. He doesn’t have to look long to figure out just who has Jill’s attention.

“So that’s him, huh?” Parker muses, but it’s less a question and more a statement. Everyone in the office knows who Piers is. “Chris’ old flame.”

That last part makes Jill blink, registering the words before she turns to look at Parker. “He’s not an old flame…” the blonde woman starts before she catches herself.

Former lover. Past love. Lost love. Isn’t that what an old flame is? Jill’s gaze returns to the field, lingering on the S.T.A.R.S captain. It feels like so long ago since the moment Jill first laid eyes on Chris Redfield. Talented and resourceful, yet arrogant and problematic, especially when it came to authority, but even so, no one could deny his sense of justice and the skills that backed him up. He was easy to get along with, Jill one of the first to befriend him after Barry, but then again the man had known Chris since long before. She had been drawn to him, unable to look any other way and for a while there, she had taught Chris had felt the same, that is, until Piers joined the team. It’s like if the rookie had caught Chris by the mouth and never let go. Jill doesn’t know if she had hated him then. She doesn’t know if she does now.

Despite her resentment, genuine fear and worry ran through her veins that night that impacted them all. He may have taken Chris for himself, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to just vanish. To disappear like if he had never existed. The confusion of what happened to Piers, what he could be going through weighed too heavily on her for the blonde woman to hate him then. She would never have wished that for Piers, even if in the end Chris eventually turned to her, because despite her attempts to convince herself that things may turn out how they are meant to be, they never worked out for her.

Chris had still been his. Still unreachable and distant in the worse way possible. The first few weeks had the worst. Chris had been consumed with the grief and need to find Piers, searching day in and day out, every minute of every hour. Jill had expected that, tried to support him even, going out on searched for the Sniper. She never expected that sorrow to last the whole year, then the next and the one after that. Jill could only be a friend then and with the way Chris had been suffering, she respected that. She honestly hadn't even thought of more, much less pursued, but then time passed. Two years turned into five, then ten and by Chris had still managed to remain in her life. No, more like she had still managed to remain in Chris’ life.

Jill didn’t know how to feel when Chris had called her that night weeks ago, voice shaking and threatening to break as he repeated one phrase over and over again: I found him. I found him. Years of trying and only after a few months of finally having Chris wrap his arms around her he reappears.

But that’s selfish. Awful. Heartless. Jill didn’t allow herself to think that way. Instead she does what she always has, rushing to the hospital, heart in her throat with real concern over the news and when she got there, her eyes immediately sought out Chris, because if there had been one thing certain about Chris, it was that he wasn’t going to be alright. He didn’t see her, his attention solely on the young man surrounded by the investigators and medical staff. His gaze never wavered from the youth, the young man that had stayed exactly the same despite the passage of years.

Never giving up. Always searching. Chris had so much love for Piers. So much love that Jill wondered why there wouldn’t be enough for her too. She wants to be loved that way. A fairy tale romance of a love that withstands the tests of time. She had been living on borrowed time, on a love that would never be hers, and when the owner finally returned to claim what belonged to him, Jill had refused to give it back. She’s still reluctant, but how can she give back something that she never had in the first place?

Chris doesn’t love her. Appreciate her, yes. Grateful for everything she’s done for him, yes. Love her dearly as a friend, companion, yes. But to be IN love with her, that’s another matter. How is she supposed to compete with that? It hurts to realize there had never been a competition to begin with and when she had come to terms with that, she made sure to tell Chris. Not in those words exactly, but she said what she could over the lump sitting in her throat.

“He’s not an old flame,” Jill repeats to herself, the words slipping past her lips. “They would have had to have ended things in order for him to be that.” Out of the corner of her eye, the blonde woman can see Parker cross his arms over his chest, the same way he always does when a topic has piqued his interest. Jill saves him the trouble of asking. “Piers disappeared. Just like that. Vanished. Everything was left in the open like that. No closure.”

“I would assume that after fourteen years apart things would have ended,” Parker comments, gaze fixed on her.

“Anyone would,” Jill agrees. “But not for them. At least, not for Chris. It’s always been Piers. Since the beginning, the way he would look at Piers, I’d never seen him direct it at someone else. Never. Not even once in the fourteen years Piers has been missing.” She’s not sure why she’s telling Parker all of this, but she supposes it must be because she just needs someone to listen to her for once. Maybe it’s because she needs to hear the words spoken for herself. “I wanted to see it, that look in his eyes that said you meant the world to him. I wanted it directed at me. I never thought I’d see it again, directed at anyone.” Jill purses her lips, pointing at the field, Parker following her gaze to see the S.T.A.R.S captain, “That look right there, it’s the same one. It’s always been for him.”

Parker watches in silence for a few moments before he looks back at Jill, but the woman’s gaze remains transfixed on Chris. On the man she realizes had never really been hers. It’s sad to say that same look in Chris’ eyes when he looks at the Sniper is the same one in her eyes right now. It’s even sadder to say that Parker knows exactly how she feels since he himself wishes that look in her eyes would be directed at him.

It’s never that easy.

0o0

It’s practically the only thing in his closet aside from a handful of clothes Claire had helped him get. Piers lets his hand linger on the uniform, the S.T.A.R.S logo prominently displayed on the sleeve. Same beige color, same style, same measurements, yet Piers knows it’s not the same. It can never be.

“Piers!” Chris’ voice filters from the living room, the Sniper stepping back and closing his closet before raising his voice so that the older man can hear him.

“Yeah?”

“Come here. Wanna show you something.”

Piers obeys, walking into the living room to find Chris sitting on the couch, hunched over the laptop on the coffee table. The older man glances back at him, gesturing for the Sniper to come closer before he leans back, revealing a familiar face on the screen.

Piers blinks, pausing mid-step, “Claire?”

“Yup, it’s me,” the younger Redfield smiles, waving at the Sniper. Piers furrows his brow, tentatively waving back. “I can see you.”

“Oh, wow,” Piers breathes out, sinking down onto the couch beside the S.T.A.R.S captain, hazel eyes transfixed on the glowing screen.

“I know, amazing, isn’t it? You should have seen how long it took Chris to get the hang of video calls,” Claire chuckles, earning a soft snort from the older man. “I heard the news! I’m happy you’re back in S.T.A.R.S. How did it go?”

“Oh,” the young man grins, impressed by how far technology has come. “It went pretty well I gotta say. Got to meet the team and got a tour of the new station. It felt good to be back.”

“That’s great,” the redhead smiles before she turns and gestures for someone off-screen to come over. “I actually wanted you to meet someone. This is Steve.”

A young man looking about the same age as Claire steps into view, the younger Redfield shifting to the side to allow the Sniper a better view of the man. Ah, so this is the fiancé. Dark blonde hair swept to the side messily, dark green eyes with a hint of maturity that hadn’t been there when Piers had first laid eyes on the guy fourteen years ago. The Ace recognizes him, having gone with Chris and Claire to his trial. He remembers Chris had been upset about the ordeal since Claire had been in danger and how much worse it had been when he found out Claire had been visiting him at the prison.

“Piers, right?” Steve offers him a small grin. “Heard a lot about ya. It’s nice to finally meet ya.”

“I can only imagine,” the Sniper mutters more to himself than to the man. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Steve.”

“Damn, they really weren’t exaggerating when they said you haven’t changed one bit,” Steve chuckles, but Piers can hear the skepticism in his voice. He’s used to it by now because really, fourteen years is a lot of time and Piers is an exact cut-out of the photograph printed on those missing flyers. The Sniper can’t blame the guy.

“Just to set the record straight, we only started dating after Steve was released from jail,” Claire smiles, resting her head on Steve’s shoulder playfully.

Piers glances over at Chris, the older man leaning back on the couch and looking completely at ease. He supposes the older Redfield had the time necessary to wrap his head around his sister marrying an ex-convict. Steve had been summoned for trial around the time Piers had disappeared, so the Sniper supposes he managed to appeal his case or something. He’ll trust Claire to fill him in on the details later. Right now, she’s busy going on and on about the wedding set in a few months.

It’s nice to hear about the wedding. It’s a nice change from being told about what he’s missed, like everyone living their lives without him, new careers or what not. Truth be told, those conversations leave him feeling left out even though he knows that’s not anyone’s intention, but the fact remains that they all have fourteen years’ worth of stories to tell. This is one thing he hasn’t missed and the Sniper is looking forward to it. Looking forward to living in this new present and becoming a part of the future. He still wants to go back to his time, misses it dearly, but now he can at least think of this predicament he’s stuck in and not feel like if he’s suffocating. It’s not so bleak anymore and he can finally think that it’s not that bad.

He’s back in S.T.A.R.S. A purpose handed back to him with that anti-material rifle. And he’s back in the lives of the people he cares about. Claire, Leon, Barry and especially Chris. He doesn’t particularly want to start over again, but if he must, then he’s glad that what had mattered most to him is returning to him. Not everything has, the void the death of his parents created in him still hurts. The fact that he never got the chance to make things right with them making it even worse, but that’s exactly why he can’t wait. Not this time.

Piers’ gaze lingers on Chris long enough for the older man to notice, turning his head so that brown meeting hazel.

“Something wrong?” the older man inquires, furrowing his brow in question.

Piers is quick to answer, “No.”

“Hey guys, are you listening to me?” Claire pouts, leaning forward into the screen like if doing so will help her get a closer look at them.

“Yeah,” Piers nods, his attention returning to the redhead, a small smile spreading across his features.

Piers is going to step out of his ghost and begin to live again. He can. He can and will if Chris is beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: RE isn’t mine.
> 
> Author’s Note: So Piers is finally making progress, trying to establish himself in this future time. You go Piers! Don’t worry, Chris has your back till the end. Also, not to worry, the full story on Steve will be revealed soon :3
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	21. Chapter 20 - Past (1998)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Past (1998)

They’re transferring Polly to the major hospital the next city over and of course Chris and Claire are going with the Burtons. They’re practically family. Chris told Piers about how Barry helped him out after he left the air force. His daughters even regard Claire as an older sister. Barry is going to need the Redfield siblings by his side to get through this, especially since Kathy took the accident hard. Piers hadn’t expected anything less considering the woman’s daughter accidentally shot her little sister, but to make things even more complicated, a part of Kathy blames her husband. If Barry had locked his gun cabinet, then Moira would never have had access to it. Then Polly wouldn’t be laying in a hospital bed in critical condition.

But this isn’t about blame, this is about saving Polly’s life.

“The flight is in two hours,” Chris comments, more to remind himself to move faster as he tosses clothes into his bag, rushing to the bathroom to grab a few things before hurrying back out and over to his dresser, looking like he remembered something else he needed to pack.

Piers nods from his cross-legged position on Chris’ bed, watching as the marksman shoves three pairs of pants into his backpack, “Is her condition that bad?”

Chris zips his bag shut before he looks up at his boyfriend, “Barry and Kathy want the best for her.”

The Sniper nods again before Claire pokes her head into the room, “Ready to go?”

“Yup,” the marksman nods as he grabs his backpack and slings one strap over his shoulder.

Piers takes that as his cue to slip off the bed and follow the Redfield’s out the front door. Chris takes a moment to check around the apartment and make sure he’s not forgetting anything before stepping out onto the porch and locking the door behind himself. The Sniper accompanies them down the stairs and to the curb, the taxi having good timing as it pulls up in the next minute.

Chris takes a moment to turn to his boyfriend, “You gonna be ok while I’m gone?”

Piers rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. “I think I can manage a day or two without you.”

“Really? Then I don’t think I’ve been doing a good enough job,” the marksman grins before he places a quick kiss on the Ace’s lips. “See you soon.”

“Take care,” Piers responds, waving both Chris and Claire off as they get in the cab, lingering on the curb as he watches it pull away and disappear when it takes a turn.

0o0

It’s just one day and Piers already wishes Chris would get on the first plane back. He and Chris haven’t been together for all that long. Barely a month to be exact, but the two have been pretty close long before they took their relationship a step further. Close enough that Piers is draped across his couch, one leg propped up on the back of it, hazel blinking lazily at the ceiling, telephone laying on his chest.

He had just gotten off the phone with his boyfriend, Chris keeping him updated, having called when they had landed safely and informing him on Polly’s condition. Piers can’t even begin to imagine what the Burton’s are going through, but before he can consider what had happened in more detail, a knock on his front door drags him out of his thoughts.

Piers furrows his brows, slowly pulling himself up into a sitting position, the phone tumbling into his lap. Chris and Claire are pretty much the only ones who visit him and although Leon isn’t home, the man has his own set of keys. Regardless, it could be someone looking for his roommate.

Standing up, the phone clatters noisily to the floor, Piers tossing a quick glance at it but not making a move to pick it up as he strolls over to the door instead, grabbing the doorknob and hesitating long enough to wonder if he should ask who it is first through the wood before pulling the door open regardless, that moment of hesitation suddenly feeling like an instinct he shook off as he comes face to face with Albert Wesker.

“Captain,” the title falls from the Sniper’s lips automatically.

Wesker doesn’t grace him with a greeting, instead tilting his head to acknowledge the younger man before he’s striding forward, Piers having to step back and press his back against the wall to allow the blonde man entrance to his apartment. Hazel follow Wesker as the man walks right in, taking in the Sniper’s simple apartment and leaving Piers to awkwardly close the door behind him.

The blonde man is meticulously dressed, long sleeved shirt fitting his toned upper body and his pants outlining his long, strong legs. Black sunglasses matching his all black attire, making his pale skin and blonde hair stand out that much more. Rigid. Authoritative. That’s Albert Wesker, Captain of S.T.A.R.S. and Chris’ ex-boyfriend.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Piers glances down at himself, noting that he’s dressed in an old pair of sweats that belong to Chris and his boyfriend’s hoodie, both articles of clothing hanging loosely on him. Glancing back up at his captain he realizes Wesker has turned to face him and even though the young man can’t see the blonde’s eyes, the hard lines of his face tell Piers that the man has recognized the clothes as belonging to Chris.

Piers clears his throat, the sound seemingly echoing in the silence of the apartment and grating to his own nerves, “Captain Wesker.” Something tells the Ace that Wesker isn’t here for anything relating to work.

“I gave you a warning,” Wesker cuts straight to the point, not one to ever waste his words or his time. “Chris belongs to me. I made sure to lay that claim that day you two decided smoking cigarettes in the office is more important than work. You ignored that warning.”

Piers blinks at the S.T.A.R.S captain, remembering that day as if it were yesterday. Both of them had been at Chris’ desk, the marksman showing him how to inhale a cigarette only for Wesker to materialize out of nowhere and claim Chris’ lips. It had been so shocking, uncalled for that the Sniper had refused to believe there had been any other reason for it other than pure shock value, especially since Chris had explained to Piers that he and Wesker had been a thing once. That’s right, once, but not anymore.

“Let me make this as clear to you as I possibly can since apparently you’re too thick to understand it any other way,” Wesker is close to snarling now, walking back over to Piers with purposeful strides that have the younger man taking a step back, every inch of his being deferring to the authority that is the blonde man in front of him. “He likes to play games, you see. Likes to play hard to get, but that doesn’t deny the fact that he’s already taken. By me,” the blonde man accentuates, brows furrowing into a deep scowl with each word hissed through his thin lips, leaving Piers with the only option of stepping back until his back meets the door, trapped between the hard surface and Wesker’s broad chest. “He’s been begging to get back with me. You’re just a distraction. A way to get back at me for denying him. I thought Chris would have dropped the act by now and frankly I tire of this game so I will do it for him. It ends. Now.”

Cold and sharp, Wesker’s words cut deep as the captain lifts his nose, looking down at the shorter man already dwarfed in clothes too big for him. The captain reaches past Piers, grabbing the doorknob and pulling it open, practically shoving the younger man aside and into the corner between the door and the wall.

Wesker pauses, tossing a glance over his wide shoulders at Piers. “It’s a pity if you thought anything you had with him was real,” he states with such disdain that the Ace feels like a bug the blonde man has just crushed into oblivion under his boot.

With all the class in the world, Wesker steps out, shutting the door gently behind him as if he hadn’t just barged into Piers’ apartment with venom emanating off his every word and movement, leaving the Sniper crammed in the corner and staring at the door, unable to will his limbs to move other than to let them crumble underneath him as he finds himself sliding down to the floor, head still trying to wrap around the tornado that just swept in and out of his door, uprooting everything in its path and leaving behind nothing but destruction.

0o0

The planes are loud as they fly overhead. People move back and forth through the airport, a flurry of motion that makes getting lost in the crowd easy. Everyone in this place has somewhere to be. A destination they’re rushing to get to.

The noise helps drown out Piers’ thoughts as he slouches in the bench outside of the designated terminal. The voice message he got from Chris had informed him that he and Claire landed safely in Raccoon a few minutes ago. The Burtons are staying a few days longer with Polly, returning with her when she’s able to transfer to the medical center in their city.

There is a missed call from Chris, but Piers can’t find in himself to call him back. He doesn’t know what he’s doing here at the airport, waiting for him. He wants to see Chris but another part of him repeats Wesker’s words over and over in his head.

It’s a pity if you thought anything you had with him was real.

Piers clenches his fists, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as his gaze rests on the dirty pavement. Passengers in and out of the airport pay him no mind, their shoes scurrying by in the Sniper’s peripheral vision, content to just let it lull him to a state of ease before and for once unaware as the two figures he came to see step out outside of the building.

Chris ends his call with Barry, taking a moment to inform Claire that Polly is still stable before deciding to try and reach his boyfriend again. Dialing the number he didn’t expect a familiar ring tone to play a few feet to his right, glancing over in curiosity rather than expectation, blinking when light blue recognize the figure hunched over on a bench.

“Piers?”

At the sound of his name being called out the Ace lifts his head, glancing over his shoulder to find his boyfriend, a smile spreading across Chris’ face as he waves at him. Piers tries to offer his own smile, he really does, but it feels forced. Feels wrong. Seeing Chris’ face, all bright and excited to see him and oblivious to Wesker’s little visit makes a weight settle on his chest and Piers just can’t stand it, pushing himself up to his feet before he could stop himself.

Piers needs to go. He’s not sure where but he just knows that he needs to move. Anywhere that won’t have Chris smiling at him like that. Anywhere that won’t have Wesker’s disdain pushed down on him.

“Piers?” the marksman calls out, lips dropping into a frown as he watches his boyfriend cross the street.

“What happened?” Claire pipes up behind her brother.

Chris slips the straps off his shoulders, handing Claire his backpack. “Grab a cab. I’ll see you back home,” he tells his sister before he takes off across the street. Claire doesn’t get a chance to protest before the older Redfield is gone.

Chris keeps an eye on Piers, trailing the hunched over figure for a block or two before the younger man veers off his path to walk down to the train tracks, walking pretty fast for someone who just seems to be moving aimlessly. Piers slows down as he steps onto the tracks, hands deep in the pocket of his jacket as Chris quickly walks up to him, grabbing hold of his upper arm.

“Hey,” Chris softly mutters, wincing when Piers startles in his hold, head whipping around to face the marksman. Something isn’t right if Piers is so out of it that he had failed to notice Chris following him. “What was that back there?”

Piers meets his eyes for a long moment before he shakes his head, letting his eyes drop to his boots, “Nothing.”

Chris can’t keep the frown growing deeper on his face, “That wasn’t nothing. What happened?” Piers avoids eye contact with Chris, the marksman grabbing his chin and forcing the younger man to look him in the eyes. “Are you ok? What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“It’s just…,” the younger man bites at his bottom lip before continuing. “Wesker came by my apartment.”

“What?” the marksman furrows his brows. “What for?”

“Had some things to say. About you. About him. ‘Bout us,” Piers mutters, hazel avoiding light blue again and that speaks more for the Sniper than his words do.

“What did he say?” Chris’ voice borders on growling, knowing full well without being told that Wesker didn’t have anything good to say. “Piers.”

“That you belong to him,” Piers breathes out, the frown on his features long beyond his usual pout. “That you’re just using me to get back at him.”

Being right doesn’t make the flash of anger that flares up in the marksman any easier to control, “Piers, you can’t be serious. Tell me you’re not just believing everything he says.”

“Of course not,” Piers snaps, eyes meeting Chris’ to glare at him indignantly. “I came to see you, didn’t I? I don’t want what he said to bother me, but…but I don’t know,” he finishes quietly, shrugging his shoulders in defeat.

Chris takes a deep breath, eyes sliding shut for a moment before he opens them with renewed determination, hand moving from the younger man’s chin to his shoulder. “Piers, look at me,” he says, waiting for the Sniper to lift his gaze again. “Listen to me carefully, I am never getting back together with Wesker,” Chris emphasizes, both hands on Piers’ shoulders to make sure to keep his boyfriend’s attention. “Whatever he said to you is bullshit. I’m the one who broke up with him.” That keeps hazel trained on blue before the marksman continues, “He’s married, Piers. Wife and kid and everything and I was stupid enough to fall for his lies. If I had known he had a family, I would have never given him a second thought. I don’t understand how someone can have a double life like that and lie so easily about it. I could never trust him again and without trust, there’s nothing, Piers. Nothing.”

Piers is silent, swallowing thickly while he holds the marksman’s stare, processing what he has just been told.

Chris lifts a hand and brushes his thumb over Piers’ cheek, furrowed brows and tight lips conveying how serious he is as he speaks again, “I trust you.” Without hesitation, without any hint of doubt. “Piers, do you trust me?”

Piers releases a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding as he lets his eyelids slide shut, raising a hand to place it on the one the marksman has on his cheek, guiding it to his own lips so that he could place soft kisses on the older man’s palm. “Yes,” is his simple response but the shaky tone in which it had been uttered makes Chris’ heart beat hard against his chest.

Wanting nothing more than to just hold Piers, Chris does just that, leaning forward to kiss the Ace softly before pulling him into an embrace, tucking the younger man’s head under his chin, “I could never, would never lie to you like that.”

Piers lets himself melt in his boyfriend’s arms, wrapping his arms around his back, pulling him as close as possible and feeling that it’s still not enough. It will never be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: RE is not mine.
> 
> Author’s Note: Ah yes, Wesker, you lost any chances you may have had. Chris belongs to Piers now. Also, Jake exists but I don’t think I’ll be able to have him make an appearance. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	22. Chapter 21 - Present (2012)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present (2012)

There are pros and cons about being left alone in Chris’ apartment. Pro, Piers can try to sleep in a little, but that usually doesn’t go anywhere since he’s already programmed himself to be an early riser. Con, aside from the TV, it’s quiet. Too quiet. Pro, he has some time to himself to think. To figure out what his next move should be. Con, he gets too much time to think and his thoughts more often than not drift to the life he misses, despite his desires to push forward. Pro, it gives him time to adjust to this life by himself. Con, he finds himself waiting for Chris to come back.

On this particular Saturday morning Piers is off, but the ever-diligent captain has a few hours to spend at the station. Slouched on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table, the programming on the TV fails to hold his attention, the Sniper’s mind wandering away to a certain Redfield. Piers tries not to dwell too long on his Chris. The one that’s twenty-five and still just a marksman in S.T.A.R.S. Instead, the Sniper focuses on the older version, the S.T.A.R.S captain that has slowly begun to occupy most of his thoughts.

Thirty-nine years old and built like a Greek god, the older man is a mystery to Piers. This Chris is almost twice as big as his boyfriend had been, smokes three times as much and consumes alcohol like if it’s water. Nothing about the Captain is boyish, and very few aspects of him resonate as the younger S.T.A.R.S marksman the Sniper had known, which might explain why it’s been so hard for Piers to call the older man by his name. Captain just seems to suit this version of Chris to the letter, but that doesn’t mean the older man isn’t any bit as less interesting as his boyfriend had been. On the contrary, Piers wants to know more about him, like a friend should. Yes, like a friend, because that’s all that could ever be between them, right?

Piers doesn’t want his thoughts to flow in that direction. He still has a boyfriend. Granted, he’s in the future and his boyfriend, the younger Chris, is part of the past now and the Sniper isn’t entirely sure where he and the Captain stand on that end, but one thing is for sure, the S.T.A.R.S captain is not his boyfriend, which is why Piers decides to settle with friend. Problem is, this older Chris doesn’t talk much, smiling and laughing even rarer.

Sitting up, Piers grabs the phone and calls the only person he can think of that can help him.

“Hello?” the female voice resounds from the other end of the line.

“Claire? Hey, it’s me, Piers,” Claire is familiar, comforting, at least her voice is. Without seeing how much she’s changed over the years, her voice is all he needs to feel like if he’s talking to eighteen-year-old Claire and that makes everything much easier.

“Piers, of course,” Claire greets and the Sniper could practically hear the smile on her lips. The last time he had spoken to her had just been barely a week ago, but she still sounds happy to hear his voice. Piers tries not to think about how his fourteen years of absence might be the reason. “How have you been holding up?”

“Well, being in S.T.A.R.S again is really helping me keep my head on straight, but today I’m just bored out of my mind,” the Sniper answers. Not entirely true since his thoughts won’t stop spinning around in circles in his head, but Claire doesn’t know that. “You?”

“Trying not to burn pancakes,” the redhead chuckles in response.

“Oh, are you busy?”

“Nope, so go ahead and shoot,” comes her ready reply.

“Hm?”

“I know you’ve got something on your mind. Go ahead, I’m listening,” her voice sounding sincere and understanding. Is she also able to read her brother like this?

“Claire, can I ask you something?” Piers finds himself asking even though the redhead just gave him the green light. He bites his bottom lip, trying not to roll his eyes at himself for making it sound so dramatic.

“Of course,” the ever-patient younger Redfield answers.

Piers takes in a deep breath. No sense drawing this out, “Do you think Chris and I can ever go back to the way things were?”

There is silence on the other end of the line for a few moments before Piers hears Claire take in a breath, “What do you mean?” she asks, but her tone is serious now. Almost defensive?

“Uh, like partners,” the Sniper quickly adds.

“Partners?”

“Well yeah, I’m part of S.T.A.R.S again, but he’s the captain now and I don’t know if we can fall back into that flow we had,” Piers lets the words tumble out of his lips.

Partners isn’t bad. Partners must be easy and comfortable, but Claire can’t help but wonder exactly which kind of partners Piers is referring to if not both. Chris and Piers had started out that way, together on the field as members of S.T.A.R.S Alpha Team. Working side by side, long nights in the office trying to get reports done. Grabbing lunch together, practicing at the shooting range. Chris had been teaching Piers hand-to-hand combat as well. Partners. Friends. That’s how Chris would refer to Piers whenever she and her brother would talk over the phone, but even then, Claire could hear it. Hear the way Piers’ name would have a special ring to it whenever it would leave her brother’s lips. The occasional hanging out every other day had become every day - at work, after work, on weekends. Chris had been falling before he could even catch himself and Claire had seen it coming. She had wanted to be there, packed a bag and slung it over her bike as soon as the semester ended, intent on making it back home to her brother and to meet this Piers.

It’s almost as if the past is repeating itself, except this time there is heavy baggage in between. This time it’s not two strangers coming together. This is Piers, the young man who had gone missing for fourteen years only to return not a day older than that night, young and with no knowledge of the passage of time. And it’s Chris, the man who spent those fourteen years searching for his boyfriend, guilt eating at him every passing day for letting the younger man walk away from him.

How can Claire tell Piers that she’s scared her brother will break again if he were to ever lose the Sniper? Again. How is she supposed to tell him that following the days, weeks, months of his disappearance, Chris would search that forest day in and day out? Unable to sleep, constantly vigilant for any glimpse of the Sniper he had been missing. Constantly playing his voice message over and over again just to hear Piers’ voice - to not forget it. How is she supposed to tell him of the many times either she, Jill, or Barry had to drag him out of a bar, drunk and hurting?

And how is she supposed to tell him that for the first time in fourteen years, Chris has finally started smiling again? How is she supposed to tell him that he’s the only person her brother has ever loved? That he’s finally starting to move again after so many years of being stuck in that rut of guilt and sorrow.

It’s already begun. Chris is the S.T.A.R.S captain and Piers is the Sniper of Alpha Team. Piers is staying with the older man until he gets his footing in this time period, not having anywhere to go. Claire bites her bottom lip, fear settling in her stomach. The past is repeating itself, but she doesn’t want it to. Not if it means Piers might disappear again. Not if it means Chris will have to go through all that suffering again.

Claire is torn. The greatest source of pain in her brother’s life had been Piers, but the young man is also the greatest source of joy. Of love, because there is no doubt in anyone’s mind that Chris had loved Piers. The way her brother had completely and utterly shut down, obsessed over Piers’ disappearance to the point of it being unhealthy is a testament that Chris had also lost a part of himself the night the Sniper had vanished. But what about now? Does he still love the Sniper or had it just been his one-track mindset of refusing to let the mystery go? Does he still love Piers, or is it a twisted sense of desire to protect him? Keep him close after losing him the way he had?

But this isn’t something Claire can decide for her brother. It’s something he’s going to have to choose for himself despite how much it pains the redhead to admit it.

“Claire? Are you still there?” Piers’ voice filters through the speaker, dragging the younger Redfield out of her thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry,” Claire apologizes, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. “Um, so partners? I’d say you guys already are, aren’t you?”

“Kind of?” the Sniper answers before he sighs. “Not really, he’s my captain now.”

“Right, must be pretty weird then,” the redhead backtracks, wondering if she had already said this before. “I’m sure he still thinks of you as a partner.” Piers hums on the other end of the line, not sounding very satisfied with Claire’s answer. She doesn’t know exactly what he wants to hear from her, so she settles for the truth. “You’re special Piers. I can tell you that much, but if you don’t think you guys are at the level you want to be, then just work on it.”

“Work on it?”

“Yeah, do stuff partners would. I’m not sure what, but I’m sure you can think of something,” Claire catches herself nodding despite the Ace not being able to see her.

Piers purses his lips, turning Claire’s words over in his head before he speaks up, “It’s just, there’s this one thing we wanted to do awhile ago, but we never got around to it.”

“Is this from before...y’know?”

“Yeah,” Piers breathes out.

“And you wanna know how Chris would react?”

“I wanna know if he even remembers,” the Sniper clarifies.

“What was it?”

Piers shakes his head before remembering Claire can’t see him, “It doesn’t matter. We can’t do it anyway.”

“What was it?” Claire insists.

“I used to go hunting,” the Sniper admits. “With my grandfather. Chris wanted me to take him sometime.”

“Oh,” the younger Redfield mutters. “I don’t know much about that. Is it even hunting season?”

“No.”

“And it’s not anytime soon?”

“Nope,” Piers sighs into the phone, Claire furrowing her brows in response.

“Ok, but then how about another alternative then?” the redhead pipes up.

Piers’ lifts a brow in response, “Like what?”

“Like something you can hunt most of the year,” Claire elaborates, sounding like if she just got an idea, but it doesn’t make things clearer for Piers. “I think I can help you out.”

“You can?”

“Yup! I have just the person,” Claire grins and Piers can practically hear it spreading across her face.

0o0

When Claire had offered the idea of hunting for something that could be found most of the year, Piers had been stumped, wondering just what the redhead had been getting at. Sitting in Barry’s boat in the middle of a lake fishing had definitely not been anywhere near his thoughts. How Claire managed to get it all together is beyond the Sniper, but he won’t complain since he’s out of the apartment, no, more like out of town in a secluded lake with Chris.

A hearty laugh fills the air, Barry patting his knee as he tries to regain control over himself, pointing at Leon and the tangled mess of a line the blonde man is trying to tie to the lure, “Need help with that?”

Leon offers the older man a sheepish smile, ducking his head and mumbling something about never having gone fishing before.

Out of town in a secluded lake with Chris, Barry, and Leon to be exact. It’s Barry’s boat after all, the man the only one with extensive knowledge in fishing to take them out and show them. Chris has been fishing before as well, but he’s not an expert like Barry, Piers’ attention divided between Barry and Chris conversing on one side of the boat while he’s on the other with Leon.

“Hm?” the Sniper hums when Leon elbows him on the arm when he successfully casts his line, effectively dragging Piers’ attention away from Chris and Barry to offer the blonde man an approving smile.

“Who woulda thought my day would wind up with me sitting on a fishing boat?” Leon chuckles, squinted blue eyes sparkling despite the sun beating down on them.

Piers shrugs, adjusting his cap before adding, “Good timing?”

Leon had come by the apartment to visit Piers a few minutes before Barry had pulled up in his truck, boat attached to the back and ready to get going for a long day of fishing. Leon had been easy to convince, jumping at the opportunity to do something different, something new. Chris hadn’t been that easy to get on board but after the initial reluctance he caved in after both Claire and Piers pleaded with him.

Sitting there beside Piers with his dress pants rolled up to his knees and the sleeves of his nice shirt folded up to his elbows is a sight to see, like a man out of his element, but Leon does well, adapting and learning quickly as if he were a natural.

“Got that right,” Leon nods, gazing at the water as if he might see a fish swim by and bite the lure. “Good thing I left Helena behind at the office. Don’t know if there would have been enough room for all of us.”

Piers pauses before he can cast his own line out, glancing over at Leon, “Helena?”

“My partner,” Leon fills in, reaching into his back pocket to grab his wallet, pulling out a picture and handing it to Piers. “That’s Helena. She’s one tough woman. Strong in every sense of the word,” he explains pointing at a brunette woman with shoulder length hair.

The woman really does look confident, the sharp look in her eyes a warning for people not to mess with her. In the photo, Leon is standing between her and another woman with glasses, brown hair pulled up into a bun. Beside her is another man in a suit and it takes Piers a moment to realize these people must be Leon’s co-workers.

“That’s Hunnigan,” the blonde man indicates to the woman with the bun. “Intelligent and a great help. Don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“Are any of these the mystery woman?” the young man inquires, offering Leon a shy smirk.

Leon blinks at him before his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, “I told you about her?”

“You did,” the sniper nods. “A while ago...y’know, before all this. You went on a date with her. You remember, don’t you? The older woman?”

“Ah,” Leon smirks, but there is a glint of mischievous playfulness in his eyes. “No, she’s not one of them. Her name is Ada Wong and she’s a long story.”

Piers glances over his shoulder at Barry and Chris, both men caught up in their own conversation, barely paying mind to the fishing itself. Hazel linger on Chris’ broad back before he sets them on Leon, “I’m sure we have time.”

Leon glances out at the lake and chuckles, “Alright, I can give you the short version then to save you the boring parts. She used me to get what she wanted and then left.”

“What?”

“Not like that, oh well, maybe just a little,” Leon shakes his head, heat rising to his face and making him look a shade darker of red in addition to the sun beating down on him. “Wanted classified files. Used me to get into the police station and gain our trust. Took what she wanted and disappeared. Master thief or spy or something, can’t really say since she’s really hard to pinpoint. I...really don’t know anything about her,” Leon admits, voice lowering and sounding distracted by his own thoughts for a moment, Piers sensing that there really is a whole lot the blonde man is leaving out. He sounds hurt, but not as the Ace would have expected. Hurt, yes, but not betrayed. Not even angry. Almost...aching. Yearning. “Every now and then I see her. Take cases where she may have been involved. It’s kinda my mission now, to catch her.”

Piers nods slowly, lips pressing into a thin line as he watches Leon, the blonde man’s blue eyes focused on the clear lake, a longing in his gaze that Piers realizes he can identify with.

“Why so serious?” Barry’s deep voice rings out before being quickly followed by a hearty laugh that fills the air, the Sniper tearing his gaze away from his old friend to see Barry sling an arm over Chris’ shoulder good-naturedly, Chris shaking his head and burying his face into his hand. “Gonna scare the fish away with that scowl.”

Chris grunts in response, only prompting Barry to crack up some more. Leon elbows Piers’ arm again, offering him a reassuring grin that he’s still up for a good time.

“Someone’s pretty grumpy, eh?” Leon leans over and whispers to him conspiratorially, cocking his head over in Chris’ direction.

Piers’ purses his lips. He had picked up on Chris’ sour mood, tight lipped the whole ride over except to offer a comment or two when prompted to respond, as if attempting to not come off as pissed, but he might be, Piers realizes. The captain had come around to looking forward to fishing, bringing up the trip and fishing advice to share with Piers, that is, until Leon had not only showed up but also joined their trip. Chris is still wary about the blonde man, that much the Sniper can pick up on. That much Piers knows Leon can pick up on as well.

Piers sighs, having wanted to take this fishing trip with Chris, for Chris. The man being in a sour mood kinda ruins that. A lot. But the Sniper decides to focus on the good parts, like being out of the apartment for once and even though Chris may not be a bundle of joy, he’s there, along with Barry and Leon and Piers can make due with that.

0o0

The sun is setting, barely visible over the trees as it retreats for the day and allows the cool air to pass through the area. They get the gear off the boat, Barry proud of his bucket full of fish while Leon and Piers have nothing to show for the day. Even Chris managed to catch some, offering Piers a little sympathetic smile. They all take it good-naturedly, Leon curiously asking Barry for his tricks and the man all too happy to discuss all he knows about his past-time.

Barry brings his truck around, Chris and Leon helping him secure the boat on it again as Piers wanders away, following the edge of the lake until he finds another small dock not too far off. The wood creaks underneath his boots but the sound of the water crashing into it is soothing, Piers walking up to the edge and plopping down, pulling off his boots and socks before letting his feet dangle over the water, toes barely skimming the surface.

It’s so quiet and serene here and Piers finds himself wondering if this place has changed much. It looks untouched, like if it can stay the same forever.

The sound of the wood creaking again alerts the Sniper that someone has joined him on the dock, stopping a few feet behind him and glancing over his head to the vast wilderness before them.

"You won't always catch much, if any," a voice he’d know anywhere by now breaks the silence. Chris.

"I guess not," Piers shrugs, gaze still out on the lake.

Chris steps forward, the younger man scooting over to allow space for the captain to sit down beside him, the older man not caring if his boots got wet, "You've never been fishing before, have you?"

"What gave it away?” Piers snorts before he shakes his head, feeling Chris’ gaze on him. “I actually have. My grandfather took me few times when he was still around, but I never liked it. My father didn't either. Guess that's why he stressed hunting so much."

The captain hums, furrowing his brows, "Then why'd you want to come out here so badly if you don't even like fishing?"

"You do," Piers blurts out before he can catch himself, immediately biting down on his lower lip.

"What?"

The Sniper has to force his mouth to open in order to release his lip, Chris taking it as the younger man getting ready to speak and waits.

"You like fishing. Real good at it too,” Piers shrugs, hazel still far from the older man beside him.

"Piers..."

"And hunting season isn't in yet. I wanted to go with you, like I promised, but..." Piers cuts him off, shrugging again as he becomes unsure of what to do. He doesn’t know why he mentioned that. Chris might not even remember that conversation. Stupid little detail they talked about long before they had even gotten together.

The Sniper tries not to flinch in surprise when fingers brush his cheek, running down his smooth skin to his chin before the older man cups it and gently turns Piers face towards him, hazel having no other choice but to meet brown like the captain wants him to. The younger man doesn’t know what he expected to see on Chris’ face, but a fond smile filled with gratitude and something else Piers can’t quite name yet hadn’t been it.

“You remember that?” Chris asks and really, it should be the Ace asking that question.

“Hasn’t been that long for me,” the younger man replies, trying to control his racing heart as he realizes that Chris does in fact remember. “I promised, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Chris agrees, nodding softly with that look still on his face. That look that Piers can’t seem to identify just yet. Appreciation? Acceptance?

“Thank you,” the older man breathes out and the Sniper has to fight the heat that blossoms across his cheeks all the way down to his neck, suddenly feeling parched as his tongue darts out to wet his lips, not missing the way Chris catches the motion, glancing down at his full lips before meeting Piers’ eyes again.

Chris clears his throat, letting go of Piers’ chin just as the horn of Barry’s truck catches their attention. The older man glances over his shoulder to where Barry and Leon are, too far to clearly see their faces as he waves at them, letting them now they heard them.

“Let’s get going,” Chris offers before he’s pushing himself to his feet, Piers nodding as he pulls his legs up and grabs his boots.

Hazel flicker over to Chris’ retreating back, the word finally finding it’s way into the Sniper’s mind. Longing. The look on Chris’ face. It’s longing. Yearning. For what exactly Piers isn’t sure yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own RE or its characters.
> 
> Author’s Note: So I’ve only been fishing a few times with my grandfather and it was so long ago that I don’t remember much. Sorry if I didn’t do a great job describing it!
> 
> Thank you for reading and I’m open to any comments.


	23. Chapter 22 - Past (1998)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Past (1998)

She stays in bed a half an hour longer than she usually would, studying the way the sunlight streams in through her curtains until she can make out the faint sound of drawers and pans in the kitchen, no doubt her brother up and about already. Only then does Claire roll out of bed, hissing when her feet make contact with the cool floor despite how hot it is outside.

The redhead gets ready for the day, taking her time to allow Chris to get breakfast ready. It is why she stayed in bed after all. Pulling her hair into a ponytail she lets her bangs fall across her face, casting one last glance at the mirror before stepping out of the room, making her way to the kitchen to see what her brother has prepared.

Claire rounds the corner, pausing for a moment when she realizes her brother isn’t alone. Piers is there, sitting next to him at the table and wearing one of Chris’ shirts that hang loosely on him, his brown hair styled messily in what looks like an attempt to tame it. Her brother, on the other hand, has made no such attempt, black strands in disarray presenting his bed head in all its glory.

“Well, well, well,” Claire strides into the kitchen, pulling the toast out of the toaster and setting them on a plate. “When did you get here?” she teases, raising an eyebrow suggestively at Piers.

“Morning to you too, Claire,” the Sniper chuckles, ducking his head to try and hide the blush blossoming on his cheeks, picking up a strip of bacon with his fingers.

Chris lets a grin spread across his features, blue eyes focused on his sister, “If you must know, he came with me yesterday to Barry’s.”

The younger Redfield nods, piling the rest of the bacon onto her plate before walking over to the table and pulling out a chair for herself, “I’m glad Polly’s doing better. I don’t think I would have been able to leave knowing she’s still at the hospital.”

Chris hums in agreement around the coffee mug at his lips before he speaks, “You all packed and ready to go?”

“Yup,” Claire answers around a mouthful of toast, swallowing before attempting to continue. “Tonight’s my last night babysitting Sherry, then I’m off back to university.”

“I thought yesterday was your last day,” the older Redfield inquires.

“It was, but Sherry was sad and didn’t want me to leave. I’m just saying goodbye,” Claire explains.

One of Chris’ brows arch at that, “You sure that’s a good idea? Kid might latch on to you.”

Claire shakes her head, “Nah, I think she’ll really appreciate it.” She glances up from her plate just in time to see Chris gesture to his boyfriend.

The marksman rubs a thumb over his own cheek, Piers getting the idea that he has crumbs on his face. The Sniper wipes his cheek with the back of his hand, but not the right one, prompting Chris to grin before grabbing a napkin and leaning towards his boyfriend, gently dabbing at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh my god!” Claire bellows, suddenly banging her forehead down on the table and startling the other two.

“Claire?” the older Redfield inquires, before flinching back when his sister lifts her head back up again as if she never slammed it down on the table.

“Don’t tell me you guys actually do that in public,” Claire gushes, blue eyes bright with amusement as she does nothing to stop the wide smile on her face.

“Do what?” Chris asks innocently, Piers’ furrowed brows an indication that he too doesn’t know what Claire is referring to.

“The lovey-dovey couple stuff,” Claire explains, gesturing wildly with her hands at them. “You’re so freaking adorable together.”

Chris glances back at his boyfriend, simultaneously sharing a shrug with him at the same time, causing Claire to gesture wildly with her hands again.

“There! See! You guys are so in tune with each other it’s borderline creepy,” the redhead laughs, cheeks flushed red at the humor the other two seem to be missing.

“Little sister darling, I think you need to lay off those romantic novels you’re so fond of reading,” the marksman advices before he pushes away from the table and stands, turning back to the Sniper. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late to work.”

Piers nods, offering Claire a quick smile before he’s also on his feet. They head back to Chris’ room, leaving Claire to her breakfast before they return a few minutes later geared up and ready to go, Chris’ wild hair finally in control. The older Redfield leans down and plants a quick kiss to the top of his sister’s head as he passes by on his way out.

“Oh, don’t forget I’m taking Piers out tonight,” Chris reminds his sister as he pauses at the door and turns to her. “Which means I don’t want you getting in too late. Say goodbye to your kid and get your butt back to the apartment.”

Claire furrows her brows at that, chewing her toast before she speaks up, “You’re not coming back here, first?”

“I am, but just in case I don’t catch you, I’m letting you know now. No excuses,” Chris narrows his eyes at her but the intensity is lost with the soft smile on his face.

The younger Redfield pouts playfully before she takes another bite of her toast, speaking through her full cheeks. “Yesh sher,” she salutes playfully with her free hand, waving both young men out the door.

0o0

Her cheeks are red, pout prominent on her little face, but to Sherry’s credit the girl is trying really hard not to cry. Claire sits back on her heels, gently brushing the girl’s blonde hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. The evening had been going well up to this point, Claire not having found the way to leave so quickly. She had ended up staying well into the night despite Sherry’s parents being home for once, but they didn’t mind Claire’s presence, especially with the way Sherry had been sulking for most of the day after the redhead had broken the news that she had to go back to university.

“Hey hun, I’m really gonna miss you too,” the redhead tries to soothe, offering Sherry small smile. “I’ll be back in a few months for the holidays. Time is gonna fly by quick and I’ll be coming back to visit in no time.”

“But I don’t want another babysitter,” Sherry tries not to whine, but her soft voice gives her away.

“Yeah, I know, but you know your mom and dad are really busy. I’m sure the new babysitter will be real nice too,” Claire tilts her head, catching the watery blue ones staring at the floor between them. “I’m sure you’ll like them a lot, too.”

Sherry finally lifts her head, mouth open to respond when the sound of the front door slamming open downstairs reaches their ears, Sherry’s mother gasping in surprise before a rough voice that doesn’t belong to Sherry’s father barks orders.

Sherry blinks at Claire in confusion, Claire telling her to wait in her room while she steps out and glances downstairs, eyes widening when they land on two gunmen dressed in black, Sherry’s parents kneeling in the living room floor with their hands behind their heads. Despite their all black attire and the masks over their faces, it’s obvious that one of them is taller and thicker than the second, that same one the one in charge with the way he’s demanding Sherry’s parents to tell them where they keep their money and other expensive possessions and financial information. The man is violent, gun shaking in his hands as he manhandles both of his hostages, going as far as grabbing Sherry’s mother by her hair and yanking her head back.

The action startles Claire into action as she spins on her heels and quietly yet as quickly as she can heads back to Sherry’s room, the blonde girl clutching to the doorframe wide eyed.

“What’s happening?” Sherry’s voice comes out in a trouble, no doubt picking up that something is terribly wrong from the sound of the rough voice and furniture scraping across the floor followed by glass shattering.

“Robbery,” Claire whispers before she holds a finger up to her lips, prompting Sherry to clamp her mouth shut and take the redhead’s outstretched hand as Claire leads her across the second floor to the master bedroom in the hope of finding a phone in there.

Sherry is doing surprisingly well to keep quiet despite the way her small hand trembles in Claire’s grip, practically attached to the redhead’s hip, and that’s when it happens, a gunshot ringing out in the house despite the silence attached to the nozzle quickly followed by a high pitched scream from Sherry’s mother, the sound of a body tumbling to the floor sounding even louder despite the commotion. The second gunshot is just as shocking, the second body crumpling to the floor just as jarring, deafening in the absence of another scream from Sherry’s mother.

It Claire’s a moment to register that someone did scream, however, someone that is currently trembling right beside her and gripping her hand like a lifeline. Almost as if on auto-pilot, Claire drags Sherry forward into the master bedroom, doing her best not to slam the door shut despite her panicked haste. A muffled curse erupts from downstairs before heavy footsteps stomp their way upstairs and down the corridor right to the master bedroom, a loud slam that rattles the entire doorframe announcing the kidnapper’s presence at the other side of the door.

Claire grabs the phone off the nightstand, the cord not letting her get too far from it and dials 9-1-1 as she turns to Sherry, willing her fear not to translate into her voice as she commands the young girl, “Go hide in the bathroom. Lock the door and don’t open it no matter what you hear.”

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” a male voice filters through the speaker just as Claire pushes Sherry into motion, the blonde girl stumbling a little before scurrying into the bathroom, face stained with tears and blue eyes wide as saucers.

“We need help. There are two men here they killed -” Claire cuts herself off with a yelp just as the door the bedroom is kicked open, the wood splitting as it gives way and slams into the wall behind it.

In the next moment the bigger man crosses the room, grabbing the phone from Claire and yanking it out of the wall and slamming it onto the floor, the redhead pressing her back into the side of the bed as the menacing man turns on her, the seething rage in his eyes striking fear in her already trembling limbs.

“We have to go!” the second criminal hisses, fear also evident in his tone and int the way he frantically slams into doorway as if he had to chase the other man upstairs. “This is already beyond fucked up!”

The second criminal freezes then when his eyes land on Claire, but the redhead barely registers it as her attention is solely focused on the barrel of the gun pointed at her face. Claire feels as if her heart is in her throat, unable to breath as she squeezes her eyes shut and waits for her inevitable end. The seconds seem to stretch, feeling almost as if she’s clinging to dear life for minutes before the sound of a crash drags another yelp from her dry throat, blue eyes shooting open to see that the second criminal has tacked the bigger man into the nightstand, the lamp and few possessions on it crashing to the floor along with the two men.

“What the fuck are you doing?” the bigger man yells, trying to get the second criminal off him, but he holds on and they end up wrestling on the floor, trying to keep hold of the gun as his accomplice tries to wrench it from his fingers.

“Stop!” the smaller masked man yells, scrambling to keep his hold on the bigger man’s wrist as they fight for control over the gun.

The sound of a gunshot resonates in the room, Claire flinching back in fear and pulling herself away from the two men and only chancing a glance over her shoulder to see the smaller criminal that had saved her clutch his stomach, blood pooling through the black material of his shirt.

“Shit! Look what you made me do!” the bigger criminal hisses, sounding alarmed for the first time that night, the gun tight in his grip while his other hand hovers over his partner, unsure of what he should be doing.

Claire decides not to give the man a chance to catch himself, grabbing the lamp they had knocked onto the floor in their struggle and swinging it as hard as she could to the back of the bigger man’s head. The force reverberates in her grip, the loud cracking sound making her heart jump as the man crumbles forward, unconscious.

Her hands are shaking, chest heaving in an attempt to get air into her lungs before she drops to her knees and grabs the phone the bigger man had tossed onto the floor, fumbling in her attempts to see if she can call the police again before she decides to just get her and Sherry downstairs and away from these men. A groan steals her attention as she glances over to the smaller man curled into himself, pressing his hands to his bleeding side. He had saved her. Wrestled his partner when the man had put a gun to her head. She doesn’t know why, tries to obey her instincts that tell her to run, but she’s a Redfield and it’s never that easy.

The Redhead crawls over to the smaller masked man, noting the way he flinches away from her when she leans over him to apply pressure to his wound. He stares at her for a moment, dark green eyes keeping her light blue trained on his before he lets his head drop back, a dry, humorless chuckle escaping his throat.

“Sorry, Claire...I never...I never wanted this to happen,” he says, the young woman flinching at the mention of her name.

Brows furrowed, Claire swallows thickly before she’s leaning forward and grabbing the black mask over the man’s face, lifting it up and watching as dark blonde hair falls across his boyish features, her breath catching in her throat. She knows this man.

Steve.

0o0

It’s strange to walk through the doors of the S.T.A.R.S police station out of uniform, but after getting the call Barry hadn’t wasted any more time than necessary, relief only reaching him as he walks through the doors and spots the familiar head of red hair.

“Claire,” he breathes out, noting that Chris has yet to arrive, but the older man has no doubt that the marksman is already racing over here as fast as he can.

Almost as if she heard him, the younger Redfield looks up from the small girl cradled in her arms and meets his gaze, pale and looking a bit shaken but otherwise unharmed. The officer standing in front of her glances over, Barry recognizing him as Officer Kennedy, the man nodding at him before stepping away from Claire towards the older man.

“One is in custody. The other was shot on the scene, but he’s hospitalized and in stable condition now,” Kennedy mumbles under his breath as the older man walks up to him.

Barry nods, “Thanks,” and pats Forest on the shoulder as he steps around to Claire, leaning down to envelop her in a hug as he realizes the girl in the younger Redfield’s arms must be Sherry, the daughter of the victims. If Claire looks shaken, the blonde girl looks much worse, tear stricken face swollen from crying uncontrollably, sobs wracking her small frame as she clings to Claire as if the redhead is her only lifeline.

The sight pains Barry, having a daughter in the hospital himself and hating to see another child suffering. Claire runs her fingers through Sherry’s short hair and Barry can’t begin to imagine how she must be feeling. Sherry isn’t the only one who has lost both her parents at a young age, the pain clear on Claire’s face as she tightens her hold on the blonde girl, unable to do much else. Claire had Chris, but Sherry is an only child. It doesn’t take much for Barry to notice, however, that Claire won’t be releasing Sherry any time soon, not that the girl would be relinquishing her hold in turn.

Barry kneels in front of the girls, resting one hand on Claire’s, prompting the redhead to meet the older man’s gaze. She holds it and Barry sees the moment understanding crosses her features before she’s nodding once and returning her attention to Sherry.

“Claire!” a familiar voice calls out, Barry glancing over his shoulder as Chris bursts through the doors, his pale face enough of an indication of how badly the phone call had shaken him as well, Piers on his heels with worry etched on his young features.

Barry stands up, allowing Chris the space as he swoops down and pulls his sister into a tight embrace, Claire moving one hand to wrap it over her brother’s shoulder while the other remains around Sherry, the blonde girl caught between them, but neither of them seem to mind as they just hold on to each other. No one has the heart to pull them apart.

0o0

It isn’t hard to find Chris. The garage light in the otherwise dark neighborhood gives him away. Piers takes the steps down one at a time, stepping into the garage and having no trouble finding Chris at all. The door to the sports car is open, the marksman in the driver’s seat hunched forward.

It had been a hard night for Claire and Sherry, but they’re not the only ones shaken up. Piers has to tip-toe around the tools scattered across the floor, walking up to his boyfriend. If Chris heard him approach, he makes no indication.

Piers purses his lips, gaze lingering on the older man before he says what he had come down here to in the first place, “Claire fell asleep.”

Chris grunts in response, not moving his head from it’s position against the steering wheel. Even up close like this Piers can’t see his face. The Sniper takes in a deep breath, hating to see Chris like this before he kneels, the angle not granting him a much better view of his boyfriend’s face since it’s buried in his arms.

“What happened tonight is sad. That little girl lost her parents,” Piers tries, his words pulling no reaction from Chris. The Ace clears his throat, trying again, “You haven’t lost Claire.”

That moves the marksman, Chris instantly sitting up, fingers curling into fists against the steering wheel, “I could have!” He still isn’t looking at the younger man, angry gaze staring through the windshield in front of him.

“Chris,” Piers breathes out, shifting to sit back on his heels.

“Those bastards almost killed my sister,” the marksman grits out, finally turning to look Piers in the eye. “Claire was in danger and I knew nothing about it, obliviously stuffing my face while my sister fought for her life. I find out about all this shit _after_ she’s rescued.”

“Chris, you know none of that could have been helped. You have no control over what happened.”

“I know, ok? I know!” Chris snaps, instantly clamping his mouth shut when he realizes he’s yelling at Piers. He huffs, sitting back in his seat and running his hands through his hair. “It’s just...she’s my baby sister, y’know?” Chris tries again, keeping his tone level. “And now she doesn’t even want to go back to school. What the hell is she thinking taking that girl in?”

The Sniper doesn’t have words for that, opting instead to tuck his bottom lip between his teeth, hazel eyes trained on his boyfriend as the marksman tries to work it all out.

Chris huffs out a breath, “I worked hard, y’know? I tried to give her the best I could. I tried to give her a chance, opportunities to do better than I ever could. I get that she wants to help that girl and believe me when I say that I think it’s an honorable thing to do, but Claire barely has the resources. She’s just a kid herself and it’s not as easy as snapping your fingers and having everything wrong with the world fix itself.”

Chris is talking from experience. The tremor in his voice says it all. He knows what it is to lose parents at a young age. He knows what it is to be strong for the sake of someone you love. Chris had to for Claire. Piers can’t even begin to imagine how it must have been for the siblings, just the two of them at a young age against the world.

“You did a great job,” Piers says, not sure where his words are coming from, but he can’t stop now that Chris bites on his bottom lip to stop it from trembling, slowly turning his face to look at his boyfriend. “I think you did an amazing job at raising Claire. She’s smart and brave. She can take care of herself. She takes after you and if you were able to do it, then so can she.” Piers reaches for Chris’ hand on the marksman’s lap, his dexterous fingers wrapping around the older man’s shaking fist. “Claire had you after you guys lost your parents. Sherry has Claire. I’m not saying it’s gonna be easy, but I do know it’s possible. Shit happens, but it’s how we deal with it, how we pick ourselves up after we fall that matters. Claire gets stronger every time and you do too.”

Chris focuses on Piers for a moment before he closes his eyes, letting the words sink in before a soft chuckle escapes his lips, “Since when were you so deep and psychological?”

“I’m not,” the Ace shrugs, daring to let the corner of his lips quirk upward.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to lose it like that,” Chris admits, slowly shaking his head as he turns his hand over and wraps his fingers around the Sniper’s in return. “I must look so weak.”

“Hey, no need to apologize. Every now and then it happens. I’m pretty level headed on the field, but even I get pretty upset when things get to me,” the hazel eyed young man offers, the small smile still playing on his features.

Chris raises an eyebrow at his boyfriend, “And do you huddle all alone by yourself and brood about it?”

Piers shakes his head, pushing himself up to stand with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I sing along really loudly to a happy song.”

Chris snorts at that, “What?”

“I’m serious,” Piers urges, ducking into the car and reaching past Chris to turn the key in the ignition, feeling it come to life. He turns on the radio, surfing through the stations.

Chris snorts again, “Wait, are you gonna show me?”

“Yup,” the Ace nods, settling for the first upbeat song he could find before turning up the volume all the way. Chris winces at the racket, Piers pulling out of the car and grabbing the marksman’s hand, pulling him out along with him.

“Are you serious?” Chris protests weakly, letting his boyfriend grab his other arm. “You’ll wake Claire.”

“If you sing along to a happy song, you’ll be just fine,” Piers grins, before he pulls his boyfriend around the garage, singing along. “ _I have a tendency to wear my mind on my sleeve ~_ ”

“I don’t even know this song,” Chris shrugs, but he can’t keep the small smile from gracing his lips at the mirth dancing in his boyfriend’s eyes.

“C’mon, Chris, just sing along,” the Sniper urges, a chuckle escaping his own lips.

What does he have to lose? With Piers staring at him so expectantly, the marksman knows he’s already lost, so Chris opens his mouth and sings. “ _Threw your arms in the air and said you’re crazy~_ ”

“Sing along! C’mon, louder than that!” Piers demands, grinning from ear to ear.

“ _It’s been three days since the afternoon~!_ ”

“A little fucking louder!”

“ _Yesterday you’d forgiven me and now I sit back and wait till you say you’re sorry ~!!_ ”

Chris screams at the top of his lungs, Piers joining him as they prance around the garage like idiots, but the marksman doesn’t care. He doesn’t care if he wakes the neighbors or if he looks insane. The girl sleeping upstairs, safe and alive, matters. This angel holding on to him, laughing and singing along, matters. This moment right here, where it’s just him and Piers, matters, and Chris wouldn’t change it for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: RE and its characters are not mine.
> 
> Author’s Note: I didn’t what song to go with for the end so I settled for One Week by Bare Naked Ladies. It came out in 1998 so I figured it would play on the radio or something. This chapter focused a lot on Claire, but the rest from here on out are back on Chris and Piers. Thank you for reading and I hope this chapter was enjoyable!


	24. Chapter 23 - Present (2012)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present (2012)

It’s deja-vu. That’s the only way Chris can explain it.

This has happened before. Piers sitting geared up beside him, meticulous hands making sure the rifle is adjusted properly, to perfection, as the armored van races down the street carrying S.T.A.R.S Alpha Team towards the chaos.

Well, maybe it’s not exactly the same, but it all feels so familiar. Instead of sitting beside the Sniper as a fellow team member, Chris is the captain. The added gear weighs the older man down, but he’s built to carry it with ease, elbows resting on his knees as his brown eyes take in each and every one of his men. Carl is seated across from him, head tipped back and eyes closed, apparently taking a moment to center himself. Ben is sitting on Carl’s right while Finn is on his left, absentmindedly pulling the beanie further down his head as he chews on his bottom lip anxiously. Andy is across from Finn, narrowed eyes watching the rookie as he pops the gum in his mouth. Chris watches every one of them in turn, taking a few moments to study their expressions, body posture, before his attention finally turns to the newest member again, Piers.

The Sniper still has his rifle in his grasp and Chris idly wonders what he’s still adjusting before he realizes Piers is keeping himself focused on his weapon. It’s his first official mission with Alpha since he’s joined and the captain can’t help but notice how tense the Sniper is, back rigid as his furrowed brows add to the solemn expression on his youthful features. Chris’ own face is drawn into tight lines, frown prominent on his face for most likely the same reason: he’s nervous. Not for himself, but for Piers. For his team. He doesn’t doubt them, for from it, these men have been single-handedly trained by himself to handle almost anything these terrorists can throw at them, but that doesn’t eliminate the danger. It does nothing to eliminate the nervousness settling in the pit of Chris’ stomach, just like it always does whenever he leads a mission, except this time, the weight churning his insides is much worse. It’s hard to ignore especially with the source sitting obliviously beside him.

Chris pushes off his knees and sits up, the action catching the attention of his team. They see a confident, strong leader in Chris because that’s what the Captain allows. Nothing less.

“Listen up,” baritone resonates in the small space. “In S.T.A.R.S, our job is to rid Raccoon City of terrorism and the only way we’re gonna do that is by sticking together. Now each and every one of you may be ready to die for our cause, but it’s my job to make sure we all get through this alive. No one gets left behind, not on my watch. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” Alpha says in unison, receiving nods in return from his men.

Earlier in the evening, S.T.A.R.S had been informed of an emergency situation at the edge of the city. A suicide bomber is threatening to take down a large building along with a few hostages. Intel informed Alpha that the bomber is on the tenth floor of a twelve story structure, a bomb planted on the second floor. The situation itself is enough to have the whole force on their last nerves, but steely resilience shines through Chris as he calls out his orders, his men following them to the T. The negotiator will keep the bomber on the line, hopefully distracted while Chris takes his men up the back stairway, hoping to get the hostages out and eliminate the threat.

“Piers,” the captain of S.T.A.R.S stops the Sniper as his men quietly round the building towards their designated entrance, the younger man pausing to glance up at the older man. “I need you to be my eyes and ears,” Chris instructs as he gestures to the adjacent building. “I need you to set your sights on the target. Get up there.” Piers furrows his brows, glancing at his fellow team members before locking his gaze with Chris’, but the older man doesn’t let him protest. “You’re my sniper. In a situation like this, I need to make sure this guy can be taken out before he loses his shit. I need you up there.”

The captain doesn’t need to explain himself, he’s the authority, but Piers isn’t just any other soldier. None of his men are, but Chris can’t shake the feeling that the Ace should be working with him, beside him, rather than below him.

The fire in Piers’ hazel don’t waver, but when he nods and steps back, Chris is surprised. He had expected the younger man to protest, to assert that he should be going in the building with them, but Piers is smart and must have realized that having his rifle on that bomber is a matter of life and death for all the lives involved. The Sniper is undoubtedly the only one who would be fast enough to put a bullet through the threats head if the desperate situation calls for it.

“Understood, Captain,” Piers affirms, rifle ready in his hands as he turns to do as Chris instructed, sprinting across the street in the cover of the darkening skies.

Chris watches him disappear into the building before he gestures for his men to breach the building. The Captain would rather keep his sniper close. He really would, but another part of Chris just doesn’t want Piers in the same building with a threat of it being blown in any given moment on the whims of a mad man. It’s another selfish reason he’d never voice, pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind as he takes the lead.

With the bomb squad on the second floor trying to disarm the explosive, that leaves Alpha with the hostages and the bomber himself. Finn is an explosive expert, but with a threat such as this, Chris will need all of his team together, letting the bomb squad take over that part of this emergency operation. The S.T.A.R.S captain instructs Andy and Ben to sweep the floors for hostages while he takes Finn and Carl up to the tenth floor where the target is with not a moment to spare, the bomber yelling into the phone at the negotiator and threatening to push the button.

On instinct, Chris shoots the small device out of the man’s hands, the detonator clattering noisily to the floor behind him. “Don’t move,” The captain orders, gun trained steadily on the man as Carl and Finn back him up, weapons also aimed at the man before they glance over at the seven hostages curled up against the wall, watching the scene unfold with fearful eyes. “Hands where I can see them.”

The terrorist shakes his head, the crazed look in his eyes unnerving the S.T.A.R.S captain to no end, his stomach twisting painfully when the target rips his shirt open, revealing another bomb strapped onto himself, the detonator already in his grip.

“You can’t stop me,” the terrorist threatens through clenched teeth, face resigned to die as he had known he would when he began this entire attack, the only question being if he’d get to die as he intends.

“Stop, don’t do it,” the Captain orders, finger on the trigger and ready to pull it at any second, a bead of sweat running down the side of his face, the air around him suddenly feeling hot and suffocating.

The bomber doesn’t listen, he moves and so does Chris, blood pumping so loudly in his veins he doesn’t hear the moment glass shatters, the bomber suddenly collapsing to the floor the only clue he gets that something had just happened. The S.T.A.R.S captain releases a shaky breath, body still tense and grip firm around his gun as he steps forward, confirming the point of entry of a bullet through the side of his head.

A moment of confusion settling in his mind. He didn’t pull the trigger, but then he purses his lips, Chris turning his head towards the direction the shot had come from, shattered glass littering the floor under the large window as the older man rests his eyes on the adjacent building. He knows who took the shot. He had predicted that the situation might come down to it, but is nevertheless impressed by his Sniper’s exceptional timing and aim. Piers.

Not a minute later, HQ filters through his earpiece, informing him that the bomb on the second floor had been defused. Making sweeps through every floor, the officers cautiously confirm that no other bomb had been planted, the emergency situation on its way to being controlled.

Chris nods at his men, watching as they help the hostages out before his gaze finds the other building again, brown eyes lingering, searching for a familiar figure. He doesn’t see him, but something tells him the Ace sniper has the captain in his sights.

Lifting a hand to his earpiece, Chris parts his lips, “Good job, soldier.”

0o0

This first operation had done the trick for Piers. The boys on Alpha had done pretty well in integrating the Sniper into their training, but the success of the night echoed how well Piers fit in with the team. It’s always been like that with Piers, even with the S.T.A.R.S team back then. His skills boast of his natural talent without him having to say a word, his determination contagious. The newest addition has a tendency to wrap himself in the operations, all work and no play while out there. Piers is born and bred for the field, a gun in his hand as natural to him as holding a pen. Chris is also like that, never one for being crammed behind a desk. Perhaps it’s what had brought them together in the first place. One thing is for sure, it’s doing wonders on bringing them together now.

More than just at the department, Piers has begun to really fit into this future timeline. Claire has had her fun filling the Sniper in on her romance with her fiance and their upcoming wedding, even going as far as asking for his input. Leon stops by whenever he can, the most recent ending with the blonde man promising the Sniper he’ll be back after he completes a new assignment. And at the apartment, Piers has been pulling his own weight, offering to pay Chris back since he’s working now or helping out around the place in anyway he can.

Piers has been doing better, although Chris pretends like he doesn’t catch the moments when the younger man sighs or looks away into the distance as if he’s missing something. The captain could only guess pretty well as to what has him down in those moments, but asking the younger man would mean having to address his own concerns.

The water beats down on his back, like the thoughts assaulting his mind, the cold feeling like needles prickling his bare skin. Chris turns, facing the shower-head and lifting his face so that it would soak through his short dark hair and trail down his face.

Everything has been good. Too good and the last time Chris had felt so at ease, content almost, Piers had vanished. The nagging fear that never seems to go away is ever present, the captain not sure if to rule it out as paranoia from all those years of searching or an inability to just let it go.

Chris lowers his head, water dripping down his nose and dripping onto the shower floor. The water cascades down his broad back, tracing his shoulder blades and hardened muscles, the S.T.A.R.S captain trying to let the thoughts wash away just the same. It’s no use, however, his thoughts circling around Piers in one way or another since the moment he had laid eyes on the youth that night a few weeks ago. No, since long before that. Since the first moment those hazel orbs had met his all those years ago. The S.T.A.R.S rookie with so much to prove.

Chris steps out of the shower and grabs his towel, patting his face dry for a brief moment before ruffling his hair with it, letting the water run down his skin and drip down to the carpet beneath his bare feet. The faint sound of a knock reaches his ears, but it’s not on the bathroom door. Someone is at the front door. He furrows his brows, not having expected any visitors but nevertheless pulls on pants before stepping out, shrugging on a shirt as he goes. Chris peaks into the living room, spotting Piers dropping into the couch but no one else.

“Who was that?” the older man asks, stepping into the living room, the television showing a baseball game.

“Hm?” the younger man murmurs around the bread stick he has between his lips as he turns, draping himself over the edge of the couch to lift up the box of pizza in his other hand.

The corner of Chris’ lips twitch, “Really?”

“Pizza and a game tonight?” the Sniper grins in response.

“You got it,” Chris flops down on the couch beside the younger man, jostling him around a little before Piers hands the box over to him.

The captain pulls out a slice, stuffing it into his mouth before settling back, focusing on the game before Piers reaches for another slice, the Ace slouching back and bringing his feet up on the couch to tuck them under him. He looks even younger like that, small even, taking up a corner of the couch with some space to spare between them. Chris catches himself studying the way the lights dance across those youthful features, not even realizing when his attention had drifted away from the screen and quickly switches his attention back to the game.

This is so normal, simple and easy even, and Chris hasn’t done normal in a long while. Not like this, with Piers’ familiar presence because the marksman has only ever had simple and easy like this with the younger man. If he closes his eyes, the Captain can go back to those evening so many years ago where he and the Sniper would sit on the couch like this, the programming on the TV only able to catch their attention for so long before it would wander over to each other. Chris’ eyes snap open, not having realized when he had closed them to begin with, heartbeat speeding up in his chest at the less than innocent memories that had flooded to the forefront of his mind. Brown eyes try to stay focused on the screen when he shifts and sees Piers glance over at him from the corner of his eye. The Ace can’t read his mind but the older man finds himself wishing that he could read his, wondering if that time spent together had echoed in the younger man’s mind as well. To Piers it hasn’t been that long, so it must have, right? Vivid and fresh in his mind’s eye.

Chris gets an excuse to look back over at Piers when there is another knock at the door, eyebrows raising in question but only getting a shrug in response, the Sniper’s mouth full of the bite of pizza he had taken. Chris takes it as his cue to push up from the couch when the knocking continues, making sure to lift his feet as to not drag them like he really wants to.

The older man forgoes looking through the peephole and pulls the door open, instantly regretting doing so when his eyes land on the visitor.

“Chris!” the female shrills, immediately lifting herself to the tip of her toes in order to be able to throw her arms over his broad shoulders, but even then it’s a struggle, her petite size making it hard for her. It doesn’t stop her from pressing her body up against him though, lips aiming to catch his before the older man averts his face and she catches the corner of his mouth.

“Jessica,” the name rolls off Chris’ tongue sourly. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve missed you,” she blinks up at him innocently, but she’s far from it, still refusing to unlatch herself from the older man even as he tries to pull away.

“I thought I made it clear that it’s over,” Chris hisses, glancing over his shoulder at the sound of shuffling behind him, highly aware that Piers must have been drawn by the commotion. He turns back to Jessica, trying to remedy the situation as fast as possible.

“What’s wrong? I thought you would be happy to see me after so long?” Jessica tilts her head to the side, finally letting Chris pry her hands from around his neck, brows furrowing. “I come back to this crappy city for you and you’re not even glad to see me?”

Chris purses his lips, trying to push her back into the hallway and out of Piers’ line of sight, but it’s too late, the younger man’s voice speaking up from just a few feet behind him.

“Captain?” Piers calls out softly, but the older man can hear the question lingering in between them. Who is she?

A mistake. That’s who she is. It’s not any news to his close family and friends that after Piers’ had disappeared he had hit the bottle hard, but the worse had been the day the search teams had been called off. When no one was willing to go out into that forest again for what must have been the fiftieth search. Tired of coming out empty, no clue whatsoever.

That day had been one of the darkest for Chris, realizing that people were giving up. Realizing that people were moving on even though Piers was still missing. Gone. That night had been the hardest, the guilt and crippling pain clawing at him to the point where he didn’t know if he could stand it. He needed to forget, even if just for a night.

Drunk off his ass he could barely stand, waking up the next morning with a splitting headache and a warm body beside him. He didn’t know her name, didn’t care to learn it as he locked himself in the bathroom until she had left. He couldn’t face her. He could barely face himself, disgusted in his own skin, wanting nothing more than to peel it off. It’s almost as if his touch had been erased. Replaced. And it repulsed him to no end.

She had been the first one since Piers.

But the feeling the alcohol had brought him, the free space in his head even if just for a few hours had been deeply planted in him and that night he hit the same bar again. The same woman had been there and there had been no reason why she wouldn’t be when Chris recognized her as the bartender. Short brown hair brushing against her jaw, clear blue eyes rivaled only by pink, plump lips.

Jessica Sherawat.

She had made sure that he learned her name then. She stayed, stubbornly trying to strike up conversation, but it paid off in the end since he had woken up the next morning with her in his bed again.

It became a usual thing, a habit even on those days where Chris just couldn’t take it anymore. Jessica had been fine with that at first, but then she wanted more. Chris had been unable to give it her. Had been unwilling. The captain had kept his distance from her then, Claire, Jill, and Barry constantly trying to help him out of that hole he had dug himself into, but Jessica is anything if not stubborn. She would come around and Chris would fall on those dark days where he could barely even remember his own name.

Jessica did understand, however, that one night is all Chris could ever give her and she took them whenever she could, however random they may have been. Once or maybe twice a month, every other month - there had been no real pattern and when time had settled in, numbing the ache in Chris’ chest to some degree, the visits became less and less until they stopped. He hadn’t needed to be blackout drunk anymore, the guilt and pain becoming a constant norm in his life. Claire and Barry were always supportive and then Jill had finally managed to worm her way past the “just friends” status into Chris’ life.

Chris never paid it any mind, burdened with too many other things. He did not expect her to show up out of the blue however, especially not after at least five or more years of zero contact with her. She hasn’t changed much, apart from her hair now being long past her shoulders.

Unfortunately, Piers’ voice caught Jessica’s attention as well, the woman maneuvering to escape his hold as she peeks around him to meet eyes with the Sniper, “Who’s that?”

“Doesn’t concern you,” Chris mutters between his clenched teeth.

“Why are you being such a cold asshole?” Jessica snaps at him, annoyed at Chris’ attempts to literally push her away. It only sparks her attitude. Defiantly, she shoves the older man’s hands away from her, moving around him to come face-to-face with Piers. “I’m Jessica. An old friend of Chris’. And you are?”

Jessica could probably care less about Piers, Chris getting the distinct feeling she’s only being stubborn, yet he can’t deny the relief that washes over him when she addresses herself as an old friend.

Chris doesn’t have to say it. Neither does Jessica. Piers can see it in the way the older man rubs the back of his neck, albeit subconsciously, annoyance radiating off him in waves. He can see it in the way Jessica meets his eyes, hands on her hips like a woman who knows what she has. Who she is. He can see it, even if he hadn’t caught the way Jessica had thrown her arms around the captain and attempted to kiss him.

“I’m…” Piers starts, pressing his full lips together before hazel dart over to brown, finding Chris staring right back at him and suddenly, he doesn’t know what to say.

He knows what he had been. Something that to Chris hasn’t been for fourteen years, but what about now? Ex-boyfriend? Friend? Subordinate? None of the words feel right to the Sniper, but they don’t feel wrong either, not when held up to the older man.

Piers isn’t sure what face he must be making, but Chris sees something that prompts him to grab Jessica’s shoulder.

“You need to go,” the Captain says, back against the door as he holds it open for her. Jessica looks about ready to protest, but Chris has had enough, cutting her off, voice stern and carrying the authority only his baritone can manage. “I’m not asking.”

Jessica’s frown doesn’t let up, but she lets Chris show her out, a look in her eyes a promise that she’ll be back. Chris closes the door, brown eyes boring a hole into the wood of the door as a silence descends in the apartment, thick and suffocating. Piers doesn’t move and neither does he, except to let his forehead rest against the door.

Piers is sharp. Has always been, very little escaping his hazel oculars. Quick to access a situation and come to a course of action. To a conclusion. Chris saw it in the Sniper’s eyes. He doesn’t need to know more than her name for him to know exactly who she is. More like had been, but the details won’t matter to the younger man. Chris squeezes his eyes shut, none of this should be a problem. Piers had been gone for fourteen years. He couldn’t have possibly expected for Chris to just sit around and wait, could he?

Except he did. Piers is frozen in time and so is Chris. He has been since the moment the Sniper vanished, unable to move on. The motions of waking up every morning and going through the day had been just that, motions. Habit. Everything that had happened in the fourteen years is a blur to Chris, tinted in black and fading like an old photograph torn around the edges. And yet he still doesn’t want Piers to know about any of it, and Chris can’t figure out why. Why he had slowly pushed Jill away. Why Jessica’s return had sent a cold chill down his spine along with a gut twisting guilt. Why he hadn’t wanted for the younger man to lay eyes on her. Why he didn’t want to see the realization on those features that things had very much happened in those fourteen years. That what they had once has been tainted by him.

“I thought we could start over,” Piers’ voice draws Chris out of his thoughts, low and barely audible, not having moved an inch as hazel study the broad, muscled back in front of him.

Chris grits his teeth, steadying his breathing. He knew this conversation would come eventually. Knew it since that day at the hospital, with Piers in that bed and staring wide eyed at him when he had told him that he’s Chris Redfield. His Chris Redfield. His boyfriend.

Fourteen years ago, Chris Redfield had given himself to one Piers Nivans. And then he had lost him. He’s back and he’s exactly the same, untouched by time but the same can’t be said about Chris. Chris can’t shake off the years that have imprinted themselves in his life.

And to Piers Nivans, just months ago he had given himself to one Chris Redfield. A Chris fourteen years younger than the one standing in front of him. A Chris still young and full of wild illusions of what the future could be, loyal and headstrong to a fault.

Promises of love caught between their joined lips. One has had to withstand the test of that love against the passage of time while the other has barely lived long enough to really know what it means to promise undying love.

“Start over?” the hushed words slip from Chris’ lips, forehead still resting against the door. “I’m not the same man. Hell, you barely know me.”

Silence settles between them again for a few moments before Piers shifts his weight onto his left leg, lips parting with an admission, “I thought that I could get to know you.”

“You have no idea about the things I have done for the past fourteen years,” the Captain counters before adding. “And you don’t want to know. Trust me.”

“About her?” Piers finds himself asking even though he’s not sure if he really wants the truth. Jill he thought he could handle. Jill hadn’t been that much of a shock, especially since she had feelings for the marksman since before Piers had even joined S.T.A.R.S, but other women? The Sniper hadn’t really stopped to consider the thought, but it’s a very real possibility, like the living and breathing Jessica. “Are there more?”

Chris grunts under his breathe, neither a confirmation or negation. “Isn’t he the one you want?” the older man changes the subject, the Sniper watching the way the captain’s shoulders rise and fall with each heavy breath. “The me of back then. I know you want to go back.”

Piers purses his lips, finding himself wishing for something more to look at than Chris’ broad back. He does. He does want to go back. He does want his Chris, but then, this man in front of him, isn’t he also that same S.T.A.R.S marksman he had fallen in love with? It is. The same human being. He’s different, but that doesn’t change the fact of who he is. And that’s the conclusion that had him dreaming when he really shouldn’t have been.

“I want Chris Redfield,” no hesitation in his words as the Sniper says them.

Chris stiffens, fingers curling into a fist by his side, “I can’t be him, Piers. I could never be the old me again.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“You don’t get it!” Chris snarls, chest heaving as he finally turns around, the words that had rising in his chest dying the moment Piers utters his own.

The younger man’s lips move, the words knocking the fight out of the older man as he clamps his mouth shut. Piers’ gaze meets his, but his hazel have lost their color, almost grey and dull on his solemn face. He looks so small standing in front of Chris, lithe and almost drowning in the captain’s shirt he hadn’t even realized the Sniper had been wearing before. It’s almost sliding off his shoulder, revealing his collarbone and reminding Chris of just how young Piers is. Of how young he shouldn't be after fourteen fucking years.

Chris can’t bare to look at him anymore, his large hands finding the door handle before turning it and letting himself back out of the apartment and into the hall, never breaking eye contact with Piers until the door shuts between them. Only then can Chris turn. Only then can he make his feet move, legs carrying him down the stairway and into the lobby, pushing out into the dimming streets.

Piers’ words repeat themselves over and over again in his head.

_“I’m not what you want anymore, am I?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: RE and its characters are not mine.
> 
> Author’s Note: Wow, this chapter took so long for me to write and not surprisingly it had been the first part. Chris and Piers have also finally touched on the topic they have been avoiding.
> 
> I hope this was a good read!


	25. Chapter 24 - Past (1998)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Past (1998)

“What do you mean Claire left?” Chris asks as he lets his hand drop down to his side, the paint roller smearing light blue paint on his already ruined jeans. He spares a glance around the room, confirming that yes in fact his baby sister is gone, her brush left on the roller try on the floor by the adjacent wall.

“She said she had something to do and took off,” Piers shrugs from the his spot a little further down from the marksman, bending down to dip his brush in the paint before carefully painting around the window.

Chris’ lips tug into a small frown. It had been Claire’s idea to remodel Barry’s guest room for Sherry. It had plain white walls before, Claire choosing light blue on the knowledge that it’s Sherry’s favorite color. Claire found something else more important? If she opted out of attending the Fall semester of college for the blonde girl, then she’d better damn well dedicate herself. Moreover, she hadn’t even said a word to him and just left.

It took a lot of persuasion from Barry’s part to convince his wife to take in Sherry. Kathy felt bad for the girl and wanted the best for her, but to take in another child? She hadn’t been so keen on the idea, but Barry somehow worked his magic. That or Polly really liked the idea of having another sister closer to her age. Moira’s opinion on the new addition to the family is still unclear.

Three months. It’s been three months since the incident and Moira still hasn’t gotten over it. No one really expects her to, not when she clearly places so much blame on herself. Not when she had been shaken up to the point where she had practically shut down on everyone and everything. It doesn’t help that Barry and Kathy can’t help their own feelings of blame directed towards her. Thus, Moira hides away in her room most of the time.

The leaves have already begun to fall off the trees, the cold settling in an early warning of a particularly cold winter. Chris sniffles, already dreading the flu season. It’s November and yet he’s already got a runny nose.

“Don’t worry so much,” Piers grins, dipping his finger in the paint before he steps towards his boyfriend and smears it on the tip of his nose.

Chris tries to duck away, but it’s too late, the Sniper’s grin widening in response. The older man raises a brow challengingly, Piers quick to understand as he ducks down to dip his finger into the paint again just as Chris leaps forward and wraps an arm around the younger man’s waist, pulling him up and away. Piers laughs, but Chris had pulled him away too late, his fingers coated in light blue paint finding the marksman’s cheek, smearing it across his skin.

“That’s the game you wanna play?” the older man chuckles, brandishing the paint roller he still has in his grip, prompting the Sniper to gasp dramatically and squirm in his hold.

“Chris,” Barry’s deep baritone rings out from downstairs. “That doesn’t sound like painting.”

“Damn, his dad senses must be tingling,” Chris scoffs, not releasing Piers in favor of dipping his head and planting a kiss on the nape of his neck.

The Sniper nods, leaning back into Chris’ firm chest, “Barry’s a good dad, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, I really think he is,” the marksman smiles fondly, his wistful eyes looking at something the Ace can’t see. Barry may not know it, but he’s a solid foundation in Chris’ young life. Chris had lost his own parents at a young age. “And yours?” Chris suddenly asks, attention back on Piers.

“Hm?”

“Your dad. Your parents,” the marksman clarifies.

“Oh, um, what about ‘em?” Piers mutters, stepping away from the older man.

Chris raises an eyebrow at his boyfriend, “They’re still around aren’t they? You don’t stay in contact with them?”

Piers purses his lips, the silence enough to make Chris regret asking as the Sniper turns back to dip his brush in the paint. “Not really,” the younger man shrugs, but the marksman can see the guarded look in those hazel orbs.

Piers doesn’t talk about his parents. Doesn’t mention them at all. The only thing he knows about them is that Piers’ family has a long standing history in the military and that’s only because the detail had been mentioned when the Sniper had first joined S.T.A.R.S. Chris can’t believe that it took his boyfriend’s dejected look on the topic to realize that fact.

If Piers doesn’t mention his parents to anyone, not even his own boyfriend, then do his parents even know much about what their son has been up to?

That line of thought sparks another question that Chris can’t help but voice, “Your parents don’t know about me, do they?”

The Sniper is silent, staring at the fresh paint dry on the wall for a few moments before he answers, “No.”

Chris slowly nods, deciding not to push it. The questions are there. He wants to know more. He wants to know everything about his lover, but the shift in the Sniper’s mood is enough indication to the marksman that the topic of his parents isn’t welcomed.

“Piers . . .”

“It’s fine, alright?” the younger man tries to assure, turning to face his boyfriend, meeting his eyes.

“I’m not gonna pry,” Chris states, brushing his fingers on Piers’ jaw. “I just want you to know that I’m here, alright?”

Piers nods, silently grateful for his boyfriend’s support as he leans into the marksman’s touch.

0o0

It’s a complex structure, the high fence and watchtowers ensuring that no one could get out. One step at a time, she walks up to the entrance, red bangs falling across her eyes as she confidently pushes the door open and steps into the cool lobby.

It’s the first time Claire Redfield has set foot in a prison and something tells her it might not be her last, all for a guy that took a bullet for her, although the circumstances beg to differ. But the redhead can’t help it, knowing that she needs to see Steve - talk to him. Find out why. It’s the only way she’d be able to put the horrible incident behind her and move on.

Regardless of her reasons, one thing is for sure, if Chris ever finds out she snuck out to visit Steve, she’d be in big trouble. The simple solution: he doesn’t ever need to know. This needs to be a one time thing. For answers. For her. For Sherry.

With that resolution in mind, Claire steps up to the front desk, “I’m here to see Steve Burnside.”

For a complex building, it’s pretty barren and stale. Plain walls lining the halls as Claire is led into a room and instructed to sit at one of the booths. She does, patient as can be as the doors beyond the thick glass separating visitors from prisoners open, two guards bringing in a Steve in handcuffs.

The young man drags his feet, head hanging low as the metal cuffs bouncing off his legs as he’s seated across from Claire. His dark blonde hair falls across his eyes, concealing them from the redhead and she sees the moment he takes a deep breath before finally lifting his head. He looks tired, worn almost. Rushed to prison right after recovering from a gunshot wound would do that to a person, Claire supposes.

The younger Redfield reaches for the phone, Steve watching her for a moment before he does the same, putting the receiver to his ear.

Claire purses her lips, measuring the strength of her voice before she voices her one and only question, “Why?”

Steve is silent for a few minutes, meeting Claire’s blue eyes before he finally speaks, “If you’re asking whether I knew you’d be there, I didn’t. It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. No one was supposed to get hurt, much less . . . much less . . .” He trails off, eyes averting to the side as he bites down on his bottom tip.

“Why?”

It’s the only word the redhead has to say, but Steve understands loud and clear, “Money. The Birkins are, were, loaded.” He corrects himself, the pain readable on his face. The regret. “Supposed to just be a burglary, but they were home and . . .” You were there too.

The redhead doesn’t feel sorry for him. Sherry’s parents are dead and no amount of regret will bring them back.

Steve must be able to tell from Claire’s steely gaze, speaking up again, “I swear, the plan was never to hurt anyone. I didn’t want to - would never . . . I’m sorry. I really am.”

And she believes him. Believes he never meant to hurt anyone. That he’s sorry. But that changes nothing. Nothing at all.

0o0

Chris can’t get Piers out of his head. Granted the Ace is always on his mind in one way or another, but ever since that day last week at Barry’s, a hint of concern accompanies the thoughts of his boyfriend.

Is there a reason Piers hasn’t mentioned him to his parents? Does he think they won’t approve of their son’s boyfriend? Of his gender? Those thoughts don’t really bother the marksman, especially since Piers hasn’t brought up the topic of his parents since long before they even got together. What bothers Chris is the concern over what could make the Sniper so distant from his parents. Sure, a lot of people move away from their parents. Leave them behind as they form a new life, but they will always be a part of Piers, and as long as they are, then Chris wants to know.

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s something. Claire approves of Piers. Chris supposes he just wants the approval of Piers’ parents. There is one thing the marksman is sure of, however, and it’s that the Ace is avoiding anything to do with his parents.

Wet fingers tap at Chris’ cheek, drawing him out of his thoughts as he blinks in an attempt to focus on the young man leaning against his chest. The marksman shifts, feeling his back protest as he sits up from the tub in an attempt to position himself, water spilling over the side of the tub as he also ends up jostling the Sniper nestled between his legs. Piers lets him, sitting up to make it easier for Chris before the older man reaches forward and pulls his boyfriend to lay on top of him again, knees drawn up on either side of the younger man’s body as Piers rests his head against the marksman’s chest.

The water is still warm, Chris only having been spacing out for no more than a few minutes, but it has been enough for Piers to notice his boyfriend hadn’t been paying attention to him, head tilted back to reveal furrowed brows and pouty lips.

“You didn’t hear what I was saying, did you?” Piers inquires, hazel locking with blue and Chris knows he can’t deny it.

Tilting his head down, the marksman buries his nose in Piers’ damp hair, the scent from the lavender shampoo strong and thick from having been recently washed. “To be fair, you’re distracting,” the older man grins, gaze taking in the bare body lying on top of his, wet and smooth and just downright sinful. “More so like this.”

Piers snorts, hands dipping under the water before he lets his fingers glide up Chris’ thighs on either side of him, “Nice try.”

The marksman can’t stop the chuckle that escapes his lips in response, “Honestly?”

“Honestly,” the younger man nods.

“Thinking ‘bout you and your parents,” Chris admits, lifting his arms from where they had been resting on the edge of the tub to lay them across his boyfriends chest, enveloping and pulling him close. “You never talk about them. At all.”

Piers is silent for a moment before he lets his head tilt to the side, hazel fixed on the shower tiles, “You wanna talk about that now?”

“Will we ever?” the marksman pushes. The Sniper shifts in Chris’ hold and the older man can see the tension set in his boyfriend’s jaw. Sighing softly, the older man tries a different approach, “What are you scared of?”

Piers shifts in Chris’ hold again, but doesn’t make any attempt to move away. “I’m not scared,” the younger man answers.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s nothing, Chris. It really isn't. You’re making this much bigger than it really is,” the Sniper mutters in response, hazel still trained on the shower tiles.

Chris lets the silence settle around them for a few minutes before he speaks up again, “Come with me.”

“Hm?”

“Come with me,” the older man says again, just as unwavering as the first time.

Piers shifts, letting his head fall back on Chris’ shoulder so that hazel can meet blue, “Where?”

“I wanna take you somewhere,” the marksman simply offers, Piers silently blinking up at him, brows furrowing for a moment before he nods.

“Ok.”

0o0

They take Claire’s bike, Piers burying his face into Chris’ back as they weave in and out of traffic, arms wound tight around his boyfriend's waist. Of all the places the Sniper had thought, a kids play zone had not been one of them. During the day, it’s abundant with children running around and laughing, but during the night, it looks like a house of horrors.

A shiver runs down Piers back as he slips off the bike, Chris dismounting as well before guiding it the side of building. He makes sure it’s properly stationed before he glances over at the Ace and gestures for him to follow. Piers follows his boyfriend through a narrow alley to the back of the building where Chris walks up to the back door.

“I had to work here for a while after I left the Air Force. Anything to get some money coming in,” Chris starts explaining nonchalantly as if it’s perfectly normal to take your boyfriend to a play zone late at night and try to break in. Wait, break in?

Chris pulls the door open with a little force, the metal scraping the concrete and sounding loud in the quiet of the night.

As if to answer Piers’ wide eyed expression, the marksman helpfully continues his explanation. “I used to sneak out for smoke breaks,” he says as he pulls out a crumbled piece of paper from the little space between the locks. “Put this here to keep it open and not set off the alarm every time I stepped out. Never got around to taking it out.”

Piers blinks at him before glancing up at the corner of the building and sure enough, there are surveillance cameras. “Chris,” he hisses, vaguely gesturing at them.

The marksman glances up at them before he chuckles, “They don’t work.”

“You don’t know that,” the younger man quips.

Chris snorts in response, “I do. The whole system is damaged.”

“How long ago did you work here? They can be working now,” Piers argues, the ever present pout on his features growing deeper with concern.

“Piers, relax, I’m 100% sure the cameras don’t work,” the marksman assures, but that doesn’t ease the Ace’s nerves, hazel glancing at the cameras and refusing to budge even as Chris gestures for Piers to get in. “Piers, c’mon.”

Piers shifts uneasily on his feet, “Why the hell are we breaking in anyway?”

“Not breaking in. I’m a former employee and I just wanna show you something,” Chris shrugs easily.

The Sniper bites on his bottom lip, feeling rooted to the spot. Chris rolls his eyes before he reaches for the Ace and grabs him by the wrist, pulling him into the building, but it’s no easy feat with how stiff Piers is.

“Relax, I promise we’re not here to burglarize or anything. I’m a cop. We’re cops, remember?” the older man feels the need to remind his boyfriend as nonchalant about the whole situation as can be.

Piers purses his lips, letting the older man pull him along as he mutters under his breath, “Some cop you are.”

Chris has the audacity to chuckle at that before he pulls Piers around the play sets, stopping when he reaches his destination. The ball pits, the colorful plastic spheres stacked up on one another to form a cluster deep enough to bury a poor, unsuspecting kid.

Piers is silent, blinking owlishly a few times before he tilts his head back to look up at his boyfriend, one simple word on his lips, “What?”

“I remember you clearly admitting that this is your greatest fear,” Chris supplies though it does very little to lift the Ace’s confusion.

“I...I did?” the Sniper furrows his brow before he shakes his head. “Ok, whatever, that’s true and all, but what? I don’t get why that matters or why we’re here.”

Chris steps behind of Piers, hands coming up to grip the younger man’s shoulders, “What are you scared of?”

“Chris, I’m so confused right now,” Piers frowns.

“I asked you what you’re so afraid of earlier. You said you’re not. So come on, show me,” the marksman urges, fingers firm on the younger man’s lithe shoulders.

“You want me to go through that?” Piers questions, eyeing the colorful sea of spheres warily. “Why?”

Chris leans forward, warm breath fanning over the shell of the Sniper’s ear, “Cause I know you’re strong and brave and I know that if you can do this, you can do anything.”

Piers snorts, not quite as strongly as he’d like to with how shaky his breathing is, “Chris, I was joking about the whole scared of ball pits thing.”

“Oh yeah?” In one motion, Chris sweeps Piers off his feet, one arm under his knees while the other supports his back, not that he’d need to with how quickly the younger man wraps his arms around the marksman’s neck, fingers twisting into the back of his shirt in an ironclad grip. “Come again?” Chris laughs, Piers’ grip unrelenting.

The Sniper purses his lips, cheeks tinting a light shade of red as hazel narrow at his boyfriend, “Chris, I just don’t understand why.”

Almost as if Chris does a complete 180 degree turn, the smile drops from his face, blue eyes staring into hazel with an intensity that surprises the younger man, “I lived my greatest fear when I almost lost Claire. You were there to help keep me together. Whether it be this or something else, anything, I want to be there for you too.”

“Chris. . .”

“I’m saying you have do it alone,” the older man interrupts. “You don’t have to do anything on your own. Not anymore.”

With the pure honesty evident in those blue eyes, how can Piers say no? He doesn’t, the Ace nodding at the marksman before the older man flashes him a proud grin, stepping over the side of the pit and sinking in knees deep into a sea of rainbow spheres. Chris sets Piers down, the Sniper holding back a scoff when the balls just barely pass his knees.

This is nothing and it makes Piers feel a little silly, but then again, the last time he had been in one of these things, he’d been a kid that could easily drown in this pit, water or not. The thought immediately leaves him when he takes a step forward and he almost loses his balance, the balls at the bottom of the pit giving way under him as they move around both men.

Piers stumbles through the pit like a newborn colt on shaky legs, Chris not doing much better as he tries to figure out why he had found these so much fun as a kid. Lurching forward, the marksman catches himself, but he’s unable to stop the laugh that follows, glancing over at the younger man who looks as if he’s trying to walk through a minefield.

“C’mon, don’t wanna be scared of ball pits forever, right?” the marksman chuckles, reaching over and grabbing hold of his boyfriend’s hand, pulling him closer and inadvertently causing him to stumble onto his knees.

Chris offers him an apologetic look, not able to stop grinning especially after he catches a little smile gracing the younger man’s features. Intertwining their fingers, they trudge across the pit, kicking up the balls and snickering along the way. The older man steps over onto the other side first, unwilling to release Piers’ hand as the younger man follows him over, relieved when as a result he’s able to catch his boyfriend when the Sniper loses his balance and crashes into him hard enough to send them both sprawling on the floor.

Chris can’t stop the laugh that erupts from him even if he wanted to, flat on his back and jostling the younger man laying on top of him. Piers glances up at him, a shy grin on his own flushed features, but he makes no move to climb off his boyfriend, Chris taking advantage of the position and wrapping his arms around the Sniper, pulling him down for a kiss.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” the marksman chuckles, pressing his forehead to the Ace’s.

Piers snorts in response, “I almost died.”

Chris throws his head back and laughs again, tightening his hold around his boyfriend and smothering Piers against his chest. “You’re so dramatic,” he manages between breaths. “You’re fine. You got through that in one piece. Great job by the way.”

Piers hums into Chris’ chest, letting the older man hold his weight as he melts into his arms.

The change in Chris’ tone is obvious, all mirth lost as he becomes serious. “You’re the bravest person I know. Strong and smart. I can’t imagine what could throw you off your game,” he says and Piers knows he’s not done yet. “What’s wrong?” And there it is.

The marksman doesn’t have to be specific for the Sniper to know what Chris is asking about. They just had this conversation in the tub and he should have known better than to think Chris would just let it go. The older man’s arms around his lithe shoulders are reassuring, the warmth radiating off the marksman just as familiar as his scent. Chris wants to hold his hand. Why not let him?

“I ran away from home,” Piers starts, tucking his face into the crook of his boyfriend’s neck, lips brushing against the older man’s skin as the muffled words continue to spill out. “My family has a history in the military. My great-grandfather, my grandfather, my father and then there’s me. I was supposed to join the military too. It was expected of me and for the entirety of my life I went along with it. Thought I should. I really thought I wanted to too but then… but then I don’t know.”

The Sniper takes in a deep breath before he releases it shakily, “My senior year in high school we were told to write a paper on what we wanted to be. Of course I wrote soldier. Military. Ten pages worth, but you know what my teacher asked me?”

Chris remains silent, sensing that his boyfriend isn’t really looking for an answer from him, but he does nod once, prompting they younger man to continue.

“Why. He asked me why and he didn’t want my answer of just because it’s expected of me. He wanted to know my reason. Piers Nivans. Not my father’s or my grandfather’s, but mine. I didn’t have any answer to give him. For the first time in my life, I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted to be. I didn’t know what to do with my life. Did I ever even have a choice? I didn’t want to be told anymore… I really just wanted to find out why. When Leon told me he was moving to Raccoon, I made the move with him. I just left. My parents…weren’t none to pleased about that at all. Not proud at all. The opposite really.”

Piers falls silent, the rise and fall of his chest pressing into Chris’ own, the older man sliding his hands down the Ace’s shoulders to his arms, pushing lightly to get him to sit back on his knees as the marksman sits up, blue eyes gazing intently into hazel.

“And now?” the marksman questions softly.

The Sniper’s pouty lips tug into a frown, but he holds Chris’ gaze as he admits, “Haven’t quite figured out anything yet.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with that,” the older man offers, letting one hand trail up Piers’ arm to his neck and higher to cup his cheek. “But you’ll know. Eventually. Doesn’t have to be tonight. Or tomorrow. Or anything this week. Year. Doesn’t matter as long as you know that you won’t have to figure it out alone.” And Chris means it. As sincere and straightforward as he can be.

Piers nods, pink tongue darting out to wet his lips, “Will it still be alright even if I told you I’m not even sure if joining S.T.A.R.S was a good idea?”

“I’d ask why you joined in the first place then.”

“You,” Piers is quick to respond and the answer is enough to remind Chris of when the Sniper had admitted to him that his stubborn heroics in that hostage situation is what had convinced the Ace to apply.

“It was a good idea,” Chris is quick to affirm and maybe he’s being selfish, but he can’t help but feel that this is where Piers belongs. In S.T.A.R.S. With him. Especially with him. “Moving to Raccoon. Joining S.T.A.R.S. Meeting me.”

“I didn’t join S.T.A.R.S to serve justice, I mean, I did, but the real reason...what really drove me was you,” Piers breathes out, hazel finally breaking contact with blue to glance down at the floor. “Doesn’t sound like a dignified reason,” the younger man admits before he suddenly jerks his head up again. “Not that you’re not a valid reason or I regret it or anything or that I think you’re not worth it, cause you are Chris and I think that if I had to go back and do it again I would cause you’re -”

“Piers,” Chris cuts off the younger man’s flustered rambling, feeling heat rise up to settle in his cheeks while at the same time pooling into his stomach, his heart protesting to the change in body temperature by beating painfully against his ribcage. “Any reason is enough for me, so how about we try this again? No answer is undignified or invalid. I just want the first thing that pops into your head.”

Piers remains silent and Chris can feel how the younger man trembles slightly in his arms, hazel burning into blue with an intensity that prevents the marksman from looking away, not that he would.

“Piers Nivans,” Chris starts before he lets his voice gain strength as he asks the question, “What is it that you want?”

“You.”

It’s so simple and raw that it takes Chris’ breathe away, the way the Sniper is taking in deep shaky breaths informing the marksman that he had also not been expecting how unguarded and honest his answer would be. Almost as if it had been a revelation to him as well.

“I’m what you want. Right now?” Chris inquires, his other hand trailing up to cup his boyfriend’s other cheek.

“Yeah,” Piers mutters, his eyelashes fluttering gently against his cheekbones as he blinks up at the older man, lost in his deep blue eyes.

“And later?”

“Yes.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Next week?”

“Yeah.”

“Next y-”

“Yes!” Piers huffs out, cutting the marksman off. “I want you. I want to be with you. I want this. Us. I love you. I love you and that’s one thing I’m sure of.”

If Chris hadn’t already been sitting on the floor, he may have toppled over at the three very specific words that the Ace had just uttered, his lungs unable to get enough oxygen flowing within him fast enough.

_I love you._

Piers is rigid in his arms, lips slightly parted as his brain catches up with his mouth before a flush creeps up his neck into his cheeks.

“You love me?” Chris whispers and the way the Sniper takes in sharp intake of breath lets the older man know Piers heard him loud and clear.

Hazel look at anywhere but Chris’ face before he furrows his brows before he makes up his mind and settles his gaze back on his boyfriend, that familiar fire dancing behind his sharp eyes, “Yes.”

Hands suddenly feeling sweaty, Chris still doesn’t release Piers’ face, “Say it again.” The way Piers’ purses his lips, a beautiful red flush coloring his cheeks doesn’t sway Chris’ resolve as he asks, no, demands again, “Piers, say it again.”

Parting his full lips, the Ace lets the three words slip past them, “I love you.” Without hesitation. He’s so sure that it makes the older man’s knees feel weak even though he’s still on his rear, the Sniper kneeling between his legs and waiting with nervous anxiousness for Chris’ answer.

Chris doesn’t let him wait for long and just as sure as Piers had uttered them, the marksman says them too, “I love you too.”

And he means it. Means it as he lets the words hang in the air between them, lets Piers process them before he’s leaning forward to capture those lips in a gentle but passionate kiss, and when the Sniper responds to the kiss, melting into Chris’ arms, he knows that Piers can feel it too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own RE!
> 
> Author’s Note: Wow, this was a pretty big one. Took me so long to get it done it’s not even funny and I’m still not too happy with it, but I think it will do. Chris and Piers finally got to the “L” word. Yay!
> 
> Thank you for reading and any comments are welcomed!


	26. Chapter 25 - Present (2012)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present (2012)

_“I’m not what you want anymore, am I?”_

The thin shirt does very little to keep the cold winds from caressing his skin, hands buried deep in his pockets, Chris mindlessly allows his legs to carry him around town. He strides along with purpose, although he has none. No direction. No destination. And almost as if sensing his distracted state, the people on the sidewalk side-step him, walking around and avoiding being knocked over by the well-built man.

How can Piers ask him that? He spent fourteen years searching for him, tearing himself apart for just letting the Sniper walk away from him. An unhealthy obsession, his life on hold as he had refused to move on, unable to. The mystery of what had happened to Piers haunting him even in his dreams.

All he had wanted was to find Piers, but then, what had he been expecting if he ever found the younger man? Days after his disappearance, the answer would have been yes. The Sniper still would have been what he wanted, no question about it. The answer would have been the same after months, maybe even up to a year or two later, but then Jessica happened, a few other girls he could never place a name or face to. Jill. The alcohol and drowning in it to escape the sorrow and guilt eating away at him.

And then suddenly Piers is back, reappearing not a day older than the night he had last seen him fourteen years ago. Hazel eyes looking almost grey as he just stands there, watching Chris walk out the door. How many mornings has the captain woken up wishing to see that face and yet now that he finally has him back he walks away? What the hell is wrong with him? The answer to that question should have been so damn easy, obvious even.

Chris pulls his hands out of his pockets when he realizes they’re trembling in the cold night air. No, not trembling, he’s shaking. What the hell is he so afraid of? It’s Piers. The same young man, literally unchanged and maybe that’s what has Chris so confused. He doesn’t know what happened that night. Doesn’t know if Piers really did skip fourteen years into the future or not, but one thing is a fact: he’s here now. He’s here now and willing to figure things out.

The question is, however, is Chris? The Captain halts at the edge of the street, barely registering the street sign indicating that he should regardless as cars drive past, the streetlights reflecting off their shiny windows and sleek sides back at the older man.

It’s loud. The chatter of people as they pass by. The vehicles as they drive past. It’s bright. Buildings and street lamps illuminating the night. Headlights blinding. It’s busy. Fast-moving and all encompassing, but even as the street cross indicates he can now continue, the person standing beside him stepping into the street and moving, Chris doesn’t. He can’t, boots cemented into the concrete as he realizes that the world is moving. It’s not still. It’s not frozen in time like Chris had been those past fourteen years. Not frozen in time like Piers still is, but moving, alive and for once in such a long time Chris can feel something. Anger. Confusion. It doesn’t matter because he feels something rather than the hollow aching deep in his chest.

The world had never stopped moving. The earth had never stopped rotating, he had. So had Piers, and standing there in the sidewalk, staring at his shaking hands, Chris realizes they can’t continue like that. He realizes that he’s willing to try and figure things out too.

With purpose, the captain turns around and strides back towards his apartment. He had just needed a moment to think, the fresh air enough to help him clear his head and muster the courage to face this. Partner, friend, past boyfriend, future lover - Chris wants to figure out just what exactly Piers is because if there is one thing the captain is clinging to in this confusing mess, it’s that the Sniper is back and he’s not going anywhere. He’s back and he’s a part of Chris’ life, always has been since the moment he had walked through those doors into the S.T.A.R.S office all those years ago and will continue to be. Chris refuses to let go. Chris refuses to let him go.

The captain trudges up the stairs, two at a time before making his way down the hall to his apartment. He reaches for the knob, almost walking into the door when it doesn’t turn. It’s locked, a minor inconvenience Chris pays no mind to as he knocks on the door. He hadn’t taken his keys when he had backed out the door.

“Piers,” Chris calls out, knocking again when a minute passes and the younger man hasn’t opened the door. “Piers, open the door,” he demands forcefully, his knuckles rapping on the door hard enough to make them ache before he presses his ear to the door, listening for any movement, stomach twisting painfully when he hears none. “Piers!” he shouts, hoping that maybe the Sniper just doesn’t hear him, but it doesn’t stop his heart beat from picking up and his fists from banging on the door.

The door to the apartment next to his opens, an elderly man poking his head out to see what the ruckus is all about.

Chris pays him no mind except to throw a quick, “Forgot my keys,” over his shoulder, the same shoulder that moments later rams into the door. It shakes on its hinges, the second impact breaking the wood around the lock as the door flies open, slamming into the wall loudly.

Chris winces at the damage, but that’s as much attention the matter gets before he’s surging forward into the apartment, brown eyes quickly scanning the kitchen for any signs of the Sniper before heading into the living room, the pizza box and drinks still on the coffee table, images flickering across the TV screen to an empty couch.

“Piers!”

He’s not in either of those spaces, the captain trying to keep the anxiety growing in his chest under control as he rushes to Piers’ room. The older man shoves the door open, his search growing frantic when he doesn’t find the Sniper there either.

“Piers!”

His deep voice carries, resonating off the walls and furniture, but no response. Chris swings the bathroom door open before he makes his way across the hall, almost sprinting to his own room, throwing the door open and almost stumbling in.

“Piers!”

He’s not here. He’s not there. He’s not anywhere. The room seems to spin, desperation clawing its way into Chris’ chest just like that night that had changed his life forever. _Fuck, not again. Not again. Not again._ His head hurts, the captain only then realizing his fingers are tugging at his short hair to the point where he feels like he might rip chunks out his scalp.

The sound of the front door banging against the wall again draws Chris’ attention, the older man’s legs carrying him on autopilot to the hallway, the little hope wanting to swell there immediately dying when his frantic eyes land on the elderly neighbor.

“Everything alright?” the old man asks, the irritation in the lines of his face betraying the hint of concern in his tone. No doubt the old man had come over to give Chris a piece of his mind for the commotion, Chris’ heaving chest and desperate eyes a sign that there’s something wrong here.

The S.T.A.R.S captain shakes his head, brown eyes moving from the elderly man to the counter beside him, noticing a piece of paper on it. He strides forward, startling the neighbor for a moment as Chris reaches past him for it.

_‘Don’t do anything stupid.’_

It’s a note and that’s all it says, scrawled in a neat handwriting characteristically of Piers’ dexterous, skillful hands.

The air seems to have left Chris’ lungs, reading the four words etched on the note over and over again, trying to process them for what felt like a good ten minutes but had really been no more than a few seconds.

“Hey, are you alright?” the elderly man’s voice wades in past the ringing in Chris’ ears, the captain’s head shooting up to glance at him before he freezes, eyes completely missing the neighbor’s to land on the empty corner.

Piers’ boots aren’t there. That means he took them, didn’t he? He couldn’t have just vanished again. There is no way. Chris refuses to believe it, stepping around the elderly man to grab his keys before he’s out the door. He flies down the stairs and out the first floor lobby, making it to his truck in record time. He slams the door shut, fitting the keys into the ignition and throwing the gear into reverse as soon as the engine comes to life.

_“I’m not what you want anymore, am I?”_

No, that’s not true. Piers has always been what Chris has wanted. The only thing he has wanted. So many countless nights of rolling over to a cold bedside and on the nights when there had been a warm body, it wasn’t the same. It hadn’t been Piers. He could never find what he had been looking for in anyone else. It’s always been Piers and Chris can’t believe how stupid he is for just walking out the way he did.

Chris pulls out onto the road, mind racing a mile a minute as he tries to figure out where Piers could be. Where he would have gone, because he’s still here. In this time, he has to be. The captain partially pays attention to the street signs as his attention divides between driving and scanning the streets for any sign of Piers.

Does he want Piers by his side? Does he want to be able to reach out and touch him, pull him close and never let go? Does he want things to go back to how they used to be or is he just too far gone from that person Piers thinks he still is? Chris knows he could never be that same twenty-five year old, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try. He keeps blaming it on the years. Keeps saying he’s not the same. But none of those are good enough reasons for the captain not to try. He has never been able to let go of Piers, and with the crumpled note in his hand, trapped between his sweaty palm and the steering wheel, he knows he never will.

Chris pulls into the parking lot of the old S.T.A.R.S building before he even considers just why this had been the first place that had popped into his head. This is where everything had started, hadn’t it? When they had first met, but then again, that’s not true. The first time they had laid eyes on each other had been months prior to that. During that hostage situation at the Raccoon City Police Department, when he had charged in and found one of the hostages trying to wrestle the gun from one of the gunmen. The hostage with the guts to tempt luck and with the most stunning hazel eyes Chris had ever seen.

The captain glances around the area, looking for Piers before trudging on inside, the lack of artificial light making it as if he had just stepped into a dark cave. Chris maneuvers through the dark, able to remember the office pretty well even with the lack of light, a hand on the peeling walls to help guide him.

“Piers?” Chris calls out, already making a mental list of other places to run to next if it turns out the Sniper isn’t here, dreading ever having to go back into the Arklay Mountains.

Eyes adjusting to the dark, it becomes increasingly easier to make out the hallways, the captain stepping through the threshold of Alpha’s old office in a rush. Brown eyes squinting, he sucks in a deep breath when something shifts in the middle of the room. It’s surreal, the silhouette outlined in the dark like a ghost standing between the dimensions of the living and the dead.

“Chris?” The soft tenor resounds in the empty space, completely and unmistakingly Piers.

The hammer that had been beating in Chris’ chest leaves him feeling lightheaded, the older man almost sagging against the doorway if it wasn’t for the conviction to feel Piers and make sure that this is all real. That he’s still here and didn’t just vanish again.

“What are you-” the Sniper starts before he cuts himself off, changing his question as the older man crosses the empty space of an office with purposeful strides towards him.

Chris doesn’t let him speak, both of his hands coming up to grab the Ace’s face and catch his open mouth in a desperate kiss. Teeth clash in the bruising contact of lips, Piers having been about to say something, but Chris doesn’t release him, the younger man’s taste familiar to his tongue and just as addicting as he remembers. The Sniper tenses against him for a moment, hands coming up to grip the captain’s, shifting in Chris’ hold as if to pull away, but the older man doesn’t have it in him yet to release him. He needs this. He needs him. Piers’ scent invading his senses, the feel of his smooth cheeks in his rough hands, the intoxication of those full lips against his.

Why hadn’t this been the first thing he did when he laid eyes on Piers in that forest?

“What the hell were you thinking?” Chris growls out when he breaks the kiss, drinking in Piers’ gasps for breath as he leans his forehead against the younger man’s. “Why’d you leave like that? Do you have any idea what you just put me through? I almost had a heart attack.”

“Captain?” Piers manages before the older man is claiming his lips again, the shock slowly wearing off and replaced with heat blossoming across his cheeks, unable to pull away from the older man despite his confusion.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” Chris continues, just having Piers here, in his arms, is enough to still his shaking hands.

“Captain -”

“Chris,” the older man corrects, pulling away just enough to be able to gaze into the Sniper’s eyes. “Call me Chris. I’m not just your captain. I don’t want to be just your captain.” Thumbs brushing over Piers’ cheek bones, he keeps the younger man close, watching as those grey eyes brighten to the striking gold and green that he’s fallen in love with all over again. “I’m not the old me anymore and I can’t...I can’t go back, but I want to go forward. There’s a lot of crap we need to work out, but I want this. I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

A lot of crap is an understatement. It’s fourteen years of his life and he doesn’t even know where he’s going to begin.

Piers’ gaze is intense, burning into Chris as if scrutinizing every inch of his face yet at the same time looking past him - through him - inside him, and seeing nothing but the raw honesty the older man is offering. The man means it. Really wants this, whatever it may be or turn into, the hope in those brown eyes making Piers’ legs feel like jello as his heart threatens to have a heart attack.

And for the first time since Piers has seemingly just walked into this present time, he doesn't feel like a mistake. Unwanted. Wrong. He believes Chris. He believes him and with his heart on his sleeve, he accepts it.

“Ok,” Piers breathes out, grip tightening around Chris’ hands and that simple statement makes the older man’s shoulders feel just that much lighter. It’s the simple fact that Piers is willing to stay. That Piers wants to stay here with him, the captain of S.T.A.R.S, in this current time. “Ok, Chris, one step at a time, right?”

The name almost sounds strange on the Sniper’s tongue, the older man having gotten used to being addressed as Captain, but he can’t deny how right it sounds, how it makes his heartbeat pick up all over again.

“Of course. One step at a time,” Chris agrees, tilting his head to lean down and taste those soft, full lips again.

Piers meets him halfway, surging up into the kiss and moving his lips against the older man's, not caught off guard this time around, his hands trailing down the Captain’s arms to his sides before they finally find his back, pulling their bodies flush together.

Chris is reluctant to pull away from the Sniper but he has to, unwilling to stand in this old building with so many memories much longer. It’s time to move on from the past and live in the present, looking forward to the future.

With Piers, like it had always been meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t RE or any of the characters.
> 
> Author’s Note: Pretty hard chapter to write by far and I hope that I was able to get this emotional chapter across well enough for you all to enjoy. More than half-way through the story by this point and I hope you all stick with me till the end. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and for the support!


	27. Chapter 26 - Past (1998)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Past (1998)

His legs ache, his back and shoulders not faring any better. The wind whips his hair back, his face already feeling numb from the constant assault. By this point, everything is pretty much a blur to Chris. The only thing real to him is the thirteen hour drive. On hindsight, maybe taking Claire’s motorcycle hadn’t been the smartest move, but he didn’t have time to waste. He needed something fast. He needed to get to Piers as soon as possible.

The marksman knew he shouldn’t have let Piers go, at least not by himself, but the Sniper had been so adamant that everything would be fine. He should have insisted more.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Chris had asked, helping Piers fold his clothes and placing them in the suitcase.

“You’re the one who said I should,” his boyfriend had answered, grabbing the folded jeans Chris had just placed in his suitcase and moving them over to make more space.

“I don’t want you to do it cause I told you to,” the older man had frowned, rolling Piers’ shirts up before dropping them in.

“I’m not,” the Sniper had assured, grabbing his shirts and unrolling them to properly fold them. “I’ve been thinking and I’ve decided that you’re right. I should see my parents.”

Chris had crossed his arms over his chest, scowl in place over his features, “Wesker’s an ass. I’m damn well sure he made sure we couldn’t take our vacation days together.”

Piers had snorted at that before turning to face his boyfriend, “Chris, it’s fine. I can survive a trip back home.”

Leon had poked his head into Piers’ room then, “Ready to go?”

“Just about,” the Sniper closes his suitcase and zips it before pulling it off the bed. “You should get to work before he makes you stay over time for being late again.” Chris opens his mouth to protest, but the Ace quickly places a finger on his lips. “And for the fifteenth time, no, you can’t take me to the airport. I’ll be back in four days, so don’t miss me too much, ok?”

Chris pouts, reaching out to grab his boyfriend’s waist and pull him flush against him. “I’ll try, but I won’t make any promises,” he mutters against Piers’ finger, placing a kiss on it.

That earns him a smile from Piers before he cups the marksman’s face and places a kiss on his lips. Chris walks with Piers and Leon all the way downstairs to the blonde’s car, wrapping his arms around the Sniper from behind and nuzzling his nose into his neck.

“Safe trip,” Chris had mumbled against his skin, Piers turning in his arms to kiss him again before he’s wiggling out of the marksman’s hold and getting in the car with Leon.

Work hadn’t been the same without the Sniper and Chris is sure everyone in the office picked up on it. True to his nature, Wesker stacked a mountain of paperwork on his desk knowing full well the marksman would rather do anything else. He ended up staying in the office past the hour. The only highlight of the day had been when Piers had called him to tell him he had landed safely.

When Chris had finally dragged himself through the door of his apartment, Claire had greeted him before returning to watching her show. He ended up slouching in the couch beside her, realizing he’s actually glad that Wesker kept him so late. Being here in the apartment makes him miss his boyfriend even more.

Chris didn’t think he’d get much sleep, but he never thought it would be because he’d have to run out and take his sister’s bike in a desperate attempt to get to his boyfriend. He had gotten the call just as the sun had been setting, the way Piers had said his name an immediate red flag that something is wrong.

“Piers?” the marksman had inquired, sitting up so fast he had caught Claire’s attention from the TV. “What’s wrong?”

“Chris,” comes the hushed voice, but the marksman can hear how it shakes. “I...coming here wasn’t a good idea.”

“What happened?”

Piers had been silent for a moment before he found his voice. “It didn’t turn out how I thought it would. I-” he cuts himself off, Chris literally sitting on the edge of his seat. “I’m so stupid.”

“Piers,” Chris had said forcefully that time, wanting the Sniper to pull himself together enough to tell him what happened. “Talk to me.”

Claire had scooted over on the couch closer to her brother, brows furrowed in worry.

“I don’t-” Piers had cut himself off again before Chris heard him take a deep, shaky breath. “I couldn’t stay there. I had to leave.”

“Where are you?”

“Chris, I need you. I need you here so badly,” Piers has said and those were the only words that had sounded strong. That sounded sure and yet the marksman couldn’t understand why the last word broke off like if the Sniper was about to cry.

“Ok,” Chris had responded, not even having to think his answer twice as he had pushed himself up from the couch, Claire standing up with him. “Where are you?”

“Tall Oaks,” the Ace had answered before quickly adding. “At the train station,” another pause before, “Come, please. I need you to come here.”

“Already on my way,” Chris had assured, rushing around the apartment to grab a coat as Claire trailed behind him, wanting to know just what was going on.

“What happened?” the younger Redfield had asked as soon as the marksman had ended the call, albeit reluctantly.

“No sure, but I know it’s not good,” Chris had stated as he moved to the front door, shoving his feet into his boots.

Claire had rounded in front of him, “Where are you going?”

“To get Piers,” the older redfield had answered, pulling his coat on. “Can I borrow your bike?”

“No way, are you serious?” the redhead had shaken her head. “He’s in Tall Oaks. That would take you hours.”

“I know, Claire,” is all Chris could say before he turned to his sister, hand outstretched and waiting for the keys to her motorcycle.

His steady gaze was all Claire had needed to see to know that her brother is serious and that there was nothing she could say or do that would stop him.

“Fine,” the redhead acquiesced before she hurried to her room to grab her keys from her bag. She returned quickly, knowing Chris must be inpatient to hit the road. Before she handed them over to her brother, however, Claire hid it behind her back, clear blue narrowing to meet her brother’s sternly. “No speeding. You’re gonna be safe and get back here in one piece. With Piers,” she adds. “Bring him home.”

Chris had nodded before he leaned forward and placed a kiss on his sister’s cheek, grabbing the keys in one movement. “Lock up,” he commanded before he was out the door and into the dimming skies.

0o0

The sun is barely breaking through the thick blanket of darkness by the time Chris makes it to the Tall Oaks Train Station, the roaring off the bike breaking the silence. He rides into the parking lot, one hand reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone when he catches sight of Piers.

He’s sitting on a bench beside the front entrance, his suitcase leaning on his leg as his hazel blankly stare down at the ground. Alone. He’s just sitting there, stiff as a statue and seemingly lost to the world.

Chris almost falls over getting off the bike, pausing only to kick out the stand before he’s jogging over to his boyfriend, the younger man not having made any move to indicate he’s aware that the marksman is even there.

“Piers,” Chris breathes out, stepping into the Sniper’s line of sight and only then does the younger man move, blinking out of his trance.

The moment hazel meets light blue, Piers stands up, lips drawn tight, expression unreadable but he lingers, no, more like hesitates, his hand twitching by his side as if he had wanted to reach out to the older man but stopped himself. Chris doesn’t, arms encircling his boyfriend and pulling him against his chest, letting Piers’ face press into his shoulder.

Piers is still in his arms for a few moments before he finally lifts his hands, fingers clutching to the back of Chris’ jacket as he turns his face into the crook of the older man’s neck, warm breath brushing the markman’s skin as he trembles ever so slightly.

Chris doesn’t have any words, so he doesn’t try, opting instead to just hold Piers, the younger man himself silent as he lets the older man’s familiar warmth envelope him, his scent a comfort he hadn’t realized he missed this badly until the marksman had wrapped his arms around him.

0o0

The droplets of water roll down his smooth back, Chris’ eyes following as they travel down Piers’ spine. He doesn’t stop himself from running his palms up his boyfriend’s arms, fingers caressing his neck before burying themselves in light brown hair. Piers hums in contentment, the warm water and the marksman’s fingers working wonders on his tense muscles.

Chris grabs the complimentary shampoo provided by the hotel, squirting most of the substance onto his hand since the bottle is so small before he runs his fingers though Piers’ hair again, making sure to thoroughly spread the shampoo. The Ace hums again, Chris deciding that he really likes it when his boyfriend makes that sound.

Without warning, Piers bends over to grab the shampoo Chris had put down, his backside rubbing directly into the marksman’s crotch, earning a sharp intake of breath from the older man. The Sniper hadn’t looked like he had been up for much ever since Chris had picked him up from the train station and booked a room in Tall Oaks for the night, Chris respecting that and opting instead to just keep his boyfriend close, but with Piers bending into him like that, Chris isn't so sure he can keep his hands only on the Ace’s hair for much longer, but the way Piers glances at Chris from over his shoulder, innocently and apologetically, tells the marksman working him up hadn’t been the Sniper’s intention.

Piers turns to face Chris, squirting the rest of the shampoo onto his hands before he returns the favor and runs them through the marksman’s thick, dark hair. The older man lets him, continuing to run his fingers through Piers’ hair as well. Chris watches him closely, the way water drips off his lashes and the way his gold-green eyes look so focused on his task that he doesn’t seem to notice Chris studying the curve of his nose or the natural pout of those kissable lips.

The Sniper’s gaze suddenly focuses on his light blue and Chris instantly knows that the younger man had, in fact, been aware of his unrestrained staring. He hadn’t expected otherwise. Piers is always aware of his surroundings, sharp senses making him the best at what he does. He’s young and confident, but the young man Chris had picked up at the station earlier seemed anything but.

The marksman lets his hands trail down to Piers’ neck, holding onto his boyfriend before he leans his forehead against the Ace’s. Blue gaze into hazel, unwavering, the sound of the shower drowned out for this moment. God, he loves this boy. He loves him so damn much.

Chris has nothing. He rushed out of the apartment to get to Piers and didn’t stop to pack anything. It didn’t matter either way since they’re heading back to Raccoon soon anyway. He’s too tired to hop on that bike for another thirteen hours, opting instead to drop face first onto the bed in nothing but a towel. His wet hair is soaking the bed, but Chris can’t bring himself to care as he drags himself up to the pillow and rolls over onto his back.

Piers flips on the TV before he climbs onto the foot of the bed and crawls up to his boyfriend, Chris’ eyes trailing down to his waist where a towel is loosely wrapped around his hips. The marksman has no problem with the Sniper also opting to just stay in a towel, Chris rolling onto his side and draping an arm over the younger man as soon as the Ace settles against him, shivering as Piers’ wet hair tickles his jaw, the younger man tucking his face between the older man’s neck and shoulder.

Chris has no idea what’s playing on TV or when exactly he had fallen asleep, but when he wakes, he’s on his back and Piers isn’t in his arms. The sun is still up, Chris guessing that it’s sometime in the afternoon before he props himself up on his elbows, finding Piers cross-legged at the foot of the bed, bare back blocking most of the TV screen from the marksman’s view.

For all his cocky, sure fire attitude, Chris can’t help but think that Piers looks so small. He can see the Ace’s spine along his back, his arms thin and lanky. He’s just twenty-one and yet he often carries himself with a sense of maturity that would put much older men to shame, but even so, Piers is still young. Still young and human.

Chris scoots up on the bed, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around his boyfriend, so he does. He lets his long legs dangle off the side of the bed on either side of Piers before he presses his chest to the Sniper’s bare back, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pulling his boyfriend back into him. He places a soft kiss on the nape of Piers’ neck, feeling as the Ace practically melts against him.

Piers turns his head, the tip of his nose cold against Chris’ jaw as he lets his boyfriend hold him for a few silent minutes, broken by his hushed tenor, “I’m sorry.”

The marksman furrows his brows, tightening his hold on the younger man, “What for?”

“Making you come out here to get me,” the Sniper breathes out.

No sooner do the words leave Piers’ lips does Chris grunt, shaking his head in response, “Don’t matter. I would have come out to get you no matter the reason. I love you, Piers.”

Piers takes in a deep breath, as if absorbing Chris’ words, hazel hidden behind delicate lashes that flutter over his cheekbones before they are revealed to focus on the marksman, “I didn’t expect them to welcome me home with open arms. I mean, yeah, that would have been nice, but...but I knew. I...turned my back on them. On the family. The legacy.”

“Is that what they said?” Chris inquires, “Or is that what you believe?”

The younger man shifts in Chris’ hold, but doesn’t pull away, opting instead to tip his head back and let it rest on the marksman’s shoulder, “Not the son my father raised. That’s what he said,” the Ace mutters before sucks in a deep breath, his next words needing that extra second, “Didn’t raise a faggot.”

Chris blinks, releasing Piers in favor of gripping his shoulders and turning his upper body around to face the older man, needing all of the younger man’s attention, “You told them? About me? Us?”

Piers nods resolutely, hazel focused on blue and Chris can see no ounce of regret in those captivating orbs. “I’m sorry,” the older man finds himself saying. “I shouldn’t have made you go.”

“You didn’t,” the Sniper counters. “I chose to go and it may not have turned out how I would have liked, but I needed to, y’know? I needed to.”

Chris nods, pulling Piers into his arms and holding him close, “You’ll always have me. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” the younger man nods, burying his face into the crook of Chris’ neck.

“Know why?” the marksman murmurs into his boyfriend’s hair.

“Cause you love me,” and Piers doesn’t phrase it as a question. It’s an undisputed statement that can only be spoken of as true, the words falling from his boyfriend’s lips making Chris’ heart beat hard in his chest.

Chris dips his head, capturing the Sniper’s lips in a slow kiss, lips fitting together like pieces of a puzzle falling into place. The younger man arches up into the kiss, plush lips soft as they yield to the older man’s increasing desire to have more, blush spreading from his cheeks down to his neck.

The sound of Chris’ phone going off startles both men, the marksman squeezing Piers for a split second before releasing him, glancing over at his discarded pants, his phone still tucked away in his pocket.

Piers glances up at him before standing up, letting the older man get up at the unspoken understanding that Chris should check to see who is calling him. Claire is always on the older Redfield’s mind and after that incident, Chris can’t help himself.

Chris drags his feet around the bed, grabbing his pants and rummaging through his pocket for his phone, glancing at the number displayed before answering it, “Yeah, Barry.”

Piers crawls back onto the bed, hazel watching his boyfriend as the older man turns around, solemn expression on his features a mixture of confusion and anger.

“Prison? Why the hell is Claire visiting a prison?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own RE or its characters.
> 
> Author's Note: Wow, this one took a while to get up, but not because of the content. I moved around recently quite a bit but I'm pretty settled now. I absolutely love writing them together like this and I hope you readers enjoy reading them ^_^ Claire has some explaining to do.


	28. Chapter 27 - Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present (2012)

It isn’t the sun creeping in through the thin curtains that wake him or the sound of traffic down below as people start their days, speeding down the streets to avoid being late to work. Rather, it’s the warmth cradled against his chest and the soft strands of hair poking at his cheek and jaw that drags Chris back to consciousness.

Piers’ nose is pressed into his neck, head resting on the muscled arm beneath him as Chris keeps him completely enveloped in his hold. His youthful face is as relaxed as it will ever be, plump lips parted slightly as too long lashes flutter over his cheekbones and the older man can’t seem to drag his gaze away from the unconscious beauty.

It’s moments like these that painfully remind the Captain just how much older he is, but then he remembers the fourteen years he had to endure without Piers in his arms and he tightens his hold, refusing to let go even as the young man grunts in his sleep at being crushed into Chris’ chest. If he could, the Captain would stay here like this for the rest of the morning. The day even. This is perfect and Chris finds himself lacking want for anything beyond this bed.

The blare of the alarm clock fills the room and just like that the quiet moment is shattered.

That’s right. He has a job.

Piers shifts, brows furrowing at the noise cutting through the relative silence of the room, Chris moving his arm from its position draped across the Sniper to reach over and slam his hand down on the alarm clock, effectively turning it off.

Chris groans under his breath, taking a moment to stretch before he rubs at his half-lidded eyes, glancing down at his companion. He should wake Piers since the younger man also needs to be in the office by the next hour or so, but the Captain can’t bring himself to do so just yet. Instead, Chris carefully tries to slide his arm from under the sleeping male, Piers’ eyes cracking open for a moment before he rolls over onto the pillow without much protest.

Chris slides out of bed, making sure to toss his end of the sheets onto the Ace before he’s quietly shifting out of the room, hand sliding under his own shirt to scratch his hard pectorals. The cool floor beneath his bare feet are intercepted by something hard and jagged, the older man hissing under his breath as he lifts his foot, glaring at the screw he had just stepped on.

His tools are all there, littering the space between the newly replaced front door and the kitchen, having remained there from when he had carelessly shoved them aside in favor of crawling into bed. By the time he and Piers had gotten back to the apartment, the old man had called the cops and the landlord. Chris tried to explain to them that there was no problem, just a simple case of misplaced keys. After follow-up questions to both him and Piers, the cops lingered for a little before leaving, the landlord sticking around to make sure Chris paid and replaced the door after promising he won’t break the door down again.

Considering the evening he had been having, that had been the easiest part. After the mental breakdown he almost suffered over the hazel eyed youth, it had been all Chris could do to replace the door and haul Piers off to bed with him, not wanting to let the Sniper out of his sight, much less let go of him. All he had needed was to hold Piers, the younger man letting the Captain crush him against his chest until the feeling of comfort lulled them both to sleep.

Chris debates between making coffee or tea, settling for the caffeine that would get him through the day, mind wandering to the Sniper and whether or not he should surprise him with breakfast. He had been the one cooking breakfast, but that had been before he had kissed Piers breathless and decided that the Sniper is what he wants. Always has been. Now it’s special to make breakfast for the younger man, or at least Chris thinks it is.

He’s pulling out a frying pan when the bedroom door creaks, the Captain glancing over his shoulder to catch Piers dragging his feet into the kitchen, his usually neat hair sticking up at random angles. It’s familiar, sparking old memories of a long time ago, back when he himself had been young and Piers would stay the night. Piers rubbing tiredly at his eyes, Chris’ shirt hanging loosely on his lithe yet strong frame. Chris hadn’t been much bigger than the Sniper back then, his own clothes fitting relatively well on the younger man. Now, however, Chris is at least two or three times bigger than he had been, his clothes hanging off Piers’ frame loosely, exposing his collarbone and shoulder, one hand clutching the sweatpants to his hip to keep them from pooling around his ankles.

Chris likes this small detail a whole lot better, wondering just how the hell he had slept with the Sniper all night without being tempted to taste that exposed skin. Chris hadn’t let Piers go to his room, literally tugging him back to his own room. The younger man must have borrowed his clothes when he had stepped into the bathroom. He blames it on exhaustion, or maybe on not even seeing Piers all that well in the dark, but damn, the sight of the Sniper now is throwing all thoughts of taking things slow out the window. One step at a time is turning into here and now, Chris finding himself unwilling to hold back after fourteen years of literally not having this kid.

The frying pan remains forgotten on the counter as Chris crosses the kitchen in purposeful strides, barely giving Piers a chance to blink the sleep out of his eyes before his large hands are on the younger man’s hips, pulling him flush against his built body and dipping his head to catch the Sniper’s nose, prompting a chuckle from Piers. Chris had meant to capture the younger man’s lips, but this works too, the next attempt successful when the Sniper lifts his head, full lips meeting the Captain’s.

“Morning to you, too,” Piers smiles into the kiss before he’s gasping, Chris’ hands working their way up from his hips under his shirt, one caressing his abdomen up to his chest and the other moving around to his smooth back.

Chris dips his head, lips trailing kisses down the younger man’s neck to his shoulder before he pulls away just enough to pull the Sniper’s shirt over his head, Piers’ hands forced to release their grip on the sweats. The Captain tosses the shirt to the floor, watching how the oversized pants slide all the way down to Piers’ thighs before the younger man is able to grab them. The older man doesn’t let him pull them up, hands grabbing the back of the Sniper’s head to pull him up into a hungry kiss. He swallows Piers’ moan, using the chance to slide his tongue across the younger man’s bottom lip, begging for entrance. The Sniper parts his lips, Chris’ tongue diving in to explore every inch of that oral cavity until he feels the younger man lean heavily against him as if his knees had just gone week.

Chris pulls away, taking in much needed air, Piers’ hands finding purchase on his shirt in a white knuckle grip.

“Captain,” Piers pants, face flushed, hazel glazed over and that’s all Chris needs before he’s bending forward, hands on the younger man’s bare thighs as he lifts him up against him, the oversized sweats slipping off the Sniper’s legs and dropping to the floor at Chris’ feet, a gasp escaping Piers’ lips even as his legs wrap around the older man’s waist.

“Chris,” the Captain corrects, growling under his breath against the younger man’s skin, feeling the way his low voice sends shivers down the Sniper’s spine.

“Chris, I don’t think we have time for this,” Piers breathes out, but even as he says this, his legs tighten around his captain’s waist, one hand threading through Chris’ soft hair while the other clutches at his back, shirt bunched up between his fingers.

Time? Fuck time. Fourteen years is a hell of a lot of time and he’s not planning on waiting another second. They can be a little late. Heck, the last thing on Chris’ mind right now is the S.T.A.R.S office. They can manage without him for the day.

“Forget about that,” the older man commands and it seems it’s all Piers had been waiting for as he surges forward, teeth nibbling on Chris’ bottom lip and hips moving against his captain’s stomach, rubbing and grinding himself on the hard body and showing Chris that he can’t wait either.

It’s out of sheer memory that Chris manages to maneuver out of the kitchen and down the hall to the bedroom without tripping over anything, unwilling to put Piers down as the younger man just as eagerly breathes hotly into his ear, arms tight around the older man’s neck. Piers feels so good against him, skin hot to the touch as he moves it against Chris in the only way the younger man knows, panting and moaning with wanton abandon and sounding like a heaven the Captain has been denied of for way too long.

He wants this. _Needs_ this and Chris is surprised at how desperate he is, body shaking with the anticipation as heat pours into his stomach, head filled with Piers to the point where he can’t think of anything else.

Stepping through the threshold of the doorway, Chris pauses for a moment to kick the door shut behind them, leaving behind the world in favor of getting lost in the beautiful young man in his arms.

0o0

Chris leans his forehead on Piers’ shoulder, breathing in his scent before he finally decides to roll over, the sheets sticking to his hot, sweaty skin. Piers remains on his back, catching his breath for a minute before he rolls over onto his side, half-lidded eyes having a hard time focusing on the older man lying beside him.

The Captain lets his head tilt to the side, gazing into hazel, a small grin tugging at the corner of his reddening lips, “Y’alright?”

The Sniper nods, bottom lip tucked between his teeth before he lifts his hand, fingers lightly tracing the the older man’s jawline, the stubble rough under his fingertips, “Do you think I might have grown one like this?”

Chris is silent, blinking at him for a moment before a smirk crosses his features. “Nah,” he answers, the Ace’s fingers tightening around his jaw and pulling his face closer in response, full lips finding his.

It’s languid, lazy almost, quickly becoming heated when Piers’ tongue dances across his lips. Chris lets Piers take control of the kiss, letting the moment forever imprint itself in his memory. The Sniper breaks the contact, his head dropping against his Captain’s upper arm. The older man runs his fingers along the Ace’s side, relishing the smooth skin.

He must have drifted off because the next thing Chris becomes aware of is the afternoon sun filtering into the bedroom, the Sniper’s chest rising and falling evenly beside him. The sound of his phone ringing pulls him from his lethargic state, reaching for it and glancing at the caller ID, opting to answer it when he sees that the call is coming from the S.T.A.R.S office.

“Redfield,” Chris answers, pushing himself up on one elbow and glancing over at Piers when he stirs, cold feet sliding up the older man’s calf and making Chris painfully aware that they’re both naked.

It really shouldn’t matter, not after what they had done a few...what? Minutes? Hours ago? Judging by the light filtering through the windows the older man guesses it must be around early afternoon. Regardless, the feeling of Piers’ bare body nestled against his has warmth spreading all the way from Chris’ cheeks to his ears.

The Captain barely catches what is being told to him, understanding the gist of it and hanging up just as he feels the Sniper push himself up on his own elbows, sheets resting on his lower chest as he raises a questioning brow at the older man.

Chris leans forward and presses a kiss to the younger man’s forehead, “Gotta drop by the office.”

A pout settles on the Sniper’s youthful features, “Something happen?”

“No, forgot about a meeting I had today,” the older man reassures.

Piers hums, looking about ready to say something before he decides against it, opting instead to silently watch Chris toss the sheets aside and swing his feet off the bed. Piers takes him in, watching the muscles ripple under his skin as the older man stands up, broad chest giving way to a well defined waist before leading down to that perfectly rounded backside. The light dances across Chris’ skin, the shadows accentuating every curve of that perfect body.

“Enjoying the view?” Chris’ deep tone prompts the Sniper to meet the older man’s gaze, the deja vu moment the Captain must be feeling clearly presented on his face.

This has happened before, the older man is sure of it, remembering every detail as if it had just happened last week, in which to Piers it no doubt must also be feeling that way.

"You're the one being an exhibitionist," the Ace mutters, repeating the same words as if someone had been feeding the line to him, pointedly roaming Chris’ body with his eyes before they meet the Captain’s, exactly like how he had done before.

Chris holds his gaze, doing nothing to hold back the feelings that rush back to him at having done this before, except this time he’s older and this time he doesn’t need Piers to speak to know that the younger man appreciates every inch of his exposed body. It’s as plain as day on his reddening cheeks.

The captain’s lips quirk upward at the corners before he’s turning around and walking over to his drawer, pulling it open and rummaging for some clothes.

“Don’t worry about coming in,” Chris says, waiting for a response from Piers.

The only one he gets is the sound of the younger man flopping back onto the bed, the older man taking it as his que to hop into the shower so that he can run down to the office and get back into bed with Piers as soon as he can.

0o0

“You’re humming.”

Chris almost jumps out of his skin, spinning on his heels and almost dropping the folder in his hands to find Jill leaning against the doorway to his office. She had been at the meeting, but it had ended at least an hour ago, the S.T.A.R.S captain taking longer than he would have liked to finish up his report.

The older man swallows around a lump growing in his throat. The last time they had spoken had been when the blonde agent had ended things with him. He had seen her around the office since then of course, but he couldn't find it in himself to approach her since he had been the reason she had left in the first place. He’s honestly surprised Jill approached him, a feeling of guilt nagging at him that doesn’t get lighter with the woman’s next words.

“Is it him?” Jill doesn’t need to say his name for the captain to know that she’s referring to Piers.

Chris hadn’t even realized he had been humming. Hurrying to cram the papers in the folder so that he can get home, yes, but humming? He doesn’t hum and it’s mortifying to be caught by anyone, even if it’s Jill.

At Chris’ lack of response, the blonde agent pushes away from the doorway to take a few steps over to the older man. “He really makes you happy, doesn’t he?” she says and she sounds as if she already knows what Chris had come to realize just the night prior, like if she knows that Chris and Piers are trying to build something again.

No, that’s not true. A part of him knew that he couldn’t resist Piers. A part of him knew that he would end up pulling the Sniper into his arms again. Maybe Jill had also known that since the beginning.

It doesn’t feel right to tell her anything but the truth, especially not after everything she has done for him.

“Yeah,” Chris admits and the look in the blonde agent’s eyes tell the captain that she had already known that would be his answer.

“I get it, alright?” Jill starts, crossing her arms over her chest as she meets his gaze steadily. “I always had. I always knew you loved him. I just thought...I thought…”

Chris purses his lips, his chest feeling tight at the thought that he had hurt her. It had never been his intention. He would never do that to her and he finds himself wishing that things could have been different, “Jill, I’m sorry.”

Jill shakes her head, “None of us knew this would happen. That he would just vanish like that to then reappear the way he did, but I did know about your feelings for him.” The blonde agent lowers her arms to her hips, every bit the confident, strong woman Chris has come to know very well over the years. “I don’t want this to end up coming between us. We’ve been through too much together for that, right?”

“Definitely,” Chris nods, his jello legs feeling just that much stronger to keep him standing. A part of him can’t believe Jill is willing to let this go, forgive him, but another part of him is grateful. He hadn’t wanted to lose her. Things didn’t work out between them, mostly because of him, but he’s glad that their long standing friendship can withstand the break up. “Jill, you’re a true friend.”

A small smile graces Jill’s plump lips, “Yeah, I know.”

0o0

Everything is going good. No, great. Better than great. Jill is willing to forgive him, choosing to salvage their friendship despite the pain Chris must have put her through. And Piers. . . Piers is willing to try and make things work between them. Willing to build a future with him.

Chris picks up some take-out and wine before heading back to the apartment, wanting nothing more than to spend the rest of the evening with his arms wrapped around the Sniper. He hops up the steps two at a time, slotting his key into the lock before stepping into the apartment, the younger man’s name the first thing on his lips.

“Piers, I’m back,” he calls, kicking the door shut behind himself as he steps into the kitchen, placing the take-out bag and the bottle of wine on the counter, hoping the Sniper likes it.

He hears shifting from the couch, a smile tugging at his lips as he steps into the living room, brown eyes immediately landing on Piers, the younger man sitting on the couch in the dark, back flat against it.

“Hey,” Chris smiles, his lips immediately twisting into a frown when hazel flicker to him before returning back to the corner, the quick glance combined with the blood smeared on the younger man’s busted bottom lip making his nerves stand on end.

“Piers?” all mirth sucked out of him, the Captain’s deep baritone holds an edge of worry while still demanding, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” a voice resonates from the corner the Sniper is glaring at, Chris recognizing it immediately.

Chris’ head snaps in the direction, eyes narrowing dangerously as the man whom the voice belongs to steps out from the shadows, “Wesker.”

It’s him. Albert Wesker, the man not having changed much except to look even more imposing. Broad shoulders accentuated by the long black coat he is wearing, blonde hair slicked back and sharp features adding an edge to the man that makes the hairs to the back of Chris’ neck stand on end.

Chris hasn’t seen the man for the better part of a decade, the former S.T.A.R.S Captain having made himself scarce after Chris had made it clear just what exactly he had thought of him. Just who he had thought had been the one behind Piers’ disappearance. Seeing Wesker here, in his apartment, with Piers all adds to the uncomfortable feeling of his stomach twisting into knots.

“Chris,” Wesker’s lips lift into a tight grin, eyes still hidden behind his sunglasses. “How long has it been?”

The blonde man’s tone wavers between amusement and condescending. Probably amused by the shock written all over Chris’ face, the condescending attitude a part of the man ever since Chris has known him.

“Five? Ten years?” Wesker continues, head turning slightly in Piers’ direction, Chris’ fingers twitching in response. “He certainly doesn’t look the years, does he?”

Chris’ feet aren't rooted to the floor, but they sure do feel like it, narrowed brown eyes focused on the blonde man as Wesker steps towards the center of the living room, but when the man approaches Piers, the invisible shackles release the Captain and he’s striding forward, ignoring the way the room seems to sway for a split second, as if he shouldn’t have moved in the first place.

“What do you want?” Chris frowns, voice bordering on growling. There is just something about the man that makes him stand on edge. Something is just...off. Unbalanced and Chris doesn’t like it one bit.

“Justice,” Wesker immediately responds, raising his hands in a pacifying manner but it does very little to convince the current captain of S.T.A.R.S. “I have been innocent all along.”

“Don’t play games with me, Wesker,” Chris narrows his eyes at the older blonde man.

“Really Chris, what have I done to deserve this kind of treatment?” the blonde man questions, but nothing about his tone indicates that the sarcasm lacing his voice is unintentional.

“You know what you did!” Chris snaps, surprised at the anger boiling up inside of him despite the nagging feeling at the back of his head telling him to control himself. That this isn’t like him. He’s on the defensive and he just can’t shake it off, just having the blonde man here enough to throw his head into a raging loop.

“You have been placing the blame on me for so long that you just can’t help but continue to paint me as the culprit, can you?” Wesker states matter-of-factly before glancing over at the Sniper again. “Am I? The culprit?”

The question makes Piers’ head snap up to meet the blonde man’s gaze, Chris himself glancing between Wesker and the Ace. The silence that settles in the living room is almost deafening and just like that Chris feels as if he’s rooted the floor again.

After what seems like at least five minutes of staring, Wesker grows tired of it, parting his lips and enunciating his next words slowly, “Did. I. Do. This?”

Piers purses his lips, hazel focused on Wesker and not moving away from the man. Finally, the younger man mutters, “I don’t...I don’t know.”

And it’s not the answer either older man wanted, Wesker’s frown growing deeper as Chris focuses his attention on the Sniper.

“Piers, what happened out there? Did he hurt you? Do something? I need you to tell me,” the current captain of S.T.A.R.S demands, taking a step forward and regretting it when his hand has to shoot out to clutch at the back of the couch, Piers startling and turning to him when the older man almost falls into his lap.

“Chris?” that’s Piers’ voice, but it almost sounds muddled, far despite the younger man being on the couch right in front of him, reaching out to steady him.

“You bastard,” the current S.T.A.R.S captain manages to wheeze out of his dry throat, hazy vision trying to focus on Wesker. He should have known. He should have known better to think that the blonde man would come here without a hidden agenda. “You did something.”

Wesker chuckles darkly, taking a step towards him while Piers jumps up from the couch, getting between his Captain and the blonde threat, seemingly finally able to move himself.

“Stay away from him,” the Sniper growls, Chris reaching out to Piers in an attempt to pull him away from the blonde man with shaky hands before he finds himself face first on the floor, his body giving out on him.

Chris hadn’t even registered that he had collapsed, only noticing he did when Piers shouts his name, his vision swimming. It’s increasingly harder to keep his eyes open, his heart hammering in his chest and threatening to burst with the effort to fight the lethargy spreading through his limbs. He can’t black out now. He can’t leave Piers with that man.

Damn it all to hell. Damn Wesker to hell.

Wesker’s voice filters through the ringing in his ears, “You need to go back to your own time, Sniper.”

Those are the last words Chris hears before black spots take over his vision, painting a canvas of black. It feels like he’s there for a long time, the ache in his body slowly registering as the captain struggles to pry his eyes open. His head hurts, especially from the point of contact he had made with the floor when he had come crashing down and it doesn’t make things easier as his heavy body struggles to roll over onto his back. The room around him sways, a knot settling in his stomach as if he were sea-sick with the rocking motion.

Taking deep breathes, Chris tries to center himself, squeezing his eyes shut before his memory finally provides him with the few precious moments of what had happened before he had collapsed. Brown eyes flying wide open, he frantically looks around, taking in the barren living room and finding neither Piers or Wesker.

“Shit,” Chris curses under his breath as he grabs hold of the couch, using it to pull himself up on numb, shaky legs. “Piers? Piers!”

The captain staggers to the wall, using it to keep himself upright as he searches the apartment. Whatever Wesker had used is strong, but despite the drug running through his system, his heart is beating painfully fast in his chest, wanting nothing more than to find Piers, but Chris doesn’t have such luck as the empty halls carry his voice. There is no one here.

He’s gone. Piers is gone again and Wesker is the one who took him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing about RE belongs to me!
> 
> Author’s Note: Whew, the ending part to this one was so stressful to write and I still don’t think that I’m completely satisfied with it. I hope I got Wesker write. I really admire those who can write him so well.
> 
> We’re getting around to the end of this story! Probably about less than five chapters left by my calculations but Chris and Piers have a way of doing what they want.
> 
> Please let me know if you liked this chapter and thanks for reading!


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